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cryo-regalia · 2 years

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healing touch

after acting a bit too recklessly in a fight against a stand user, the team’s capo finds himself alone and injured. attempting to regroup, he meets a tourist with a healing touch who becomes the apple of his eye ft. bruno bucciarati

— THEMES: yandere au, major vento aureo spoilers, acupuncture needles, blood, wounds, mentioned violence, mentioned disfigurement, mentioned detachment of body parts, gender neutral reader, stand user!reader, reader is a tourist and new to the language and speaks in semi-broken italian (english), love at first sight trope because i said so.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+

The life of a mafioso was not as idealized and romantic as many would come to believe. Bruno Bucciarati learned that the hard way when he was young and driven to join Passione as a boy. The money he and other members of the famiglia earned wasn’t their own to take, instead sent their former capo’s (and now his) way, then to other higher-ups until it was finally sent way to the ever elusive boss. He didn’t sleep in the grand bed or indulge in the comforts of his home, very rarely returning to it and when he did it was never for long. From meager bruises that went away in a few day’s time to gashes that made him want to scream from the burning heat as he stitched the torn skin together in the bathroom of whatever establishment he could stumble into first, Bruno was no stranger to brutality. He could find that special person the elderly ladies always giggled to him about, but how willing was he to involve an innocent person in the affairs of a mafioso? How willing would they be to even start something knowing that his life would be robbed one day and that he has taken many himself, or that there was so much blood on his hands he could no longer name who it was from. One day, he would die, and natural causes seemed like less of a possibility with each passing day. Losing someone abruptly like that wasn’t a torture he liked to think about, but it came with the job. The life he chose to make for himself was one full of violence, but most importantly: loyalty.

For a traitor like him, something like this was to be expected once they all but one departed from the church. Being targeted and attacked by another Stand user became common within the few days he and his team traveled for, despite their attempts at staying hidden. Of course their foe would end up in humiliating defeat on the ground and covered in a blanket of their own blood, but the longer they stayed the easier it would be for La Squadra or someone else to track them down. Aerosmith proved useful time and time again while they traveled to and from, pointing out potentially suspicious figures around them, but it was only a matter of time until they were ambushed. Bruno was the one who volunteered to keep their hidden follower at bay and away from their next destination despite Abbacchio’s harsh concerns and Giorno’s offer to take his place. As appreciative as he was, there was no time to argue and he was off fairly quickly. While he kept an eye out over his shoulder and around his surroundings, it came as no surprise when a former member of the famiglia crossed his path. He knew him by face alone and the few times they’ve passed by one another in the streets of Napoli, but recognized the lanky and oddly dressed man as someone who worked beneath Leaky-Eye Luca. A traitor like him, yet bound to another path of life by the hands of fate that resulted in him being discarded in a jumbled mess of limbs.

It didn’t hurt, his wounds. He no longer felt the searing heat or the adrenaline rush that came with such deep gashes and thick punctures, and that anxiety of dying in a pool of his own blood was no longer there. He didn’t notice the tear in the side of his hand until they were in a rental car and he was given a moment to collect himself and his thoughts. He was thankful that his team had such faith in him and trusted his words when he told them I’m fine, but he wasn’t oblivious to the way their newest member’s eyes would follow him in silent curiosity and confusion. This was why he volunteered in the first place: you can’t kill what’s already dead. Someone else getting injured would only delay them more than they already were and potentially draw their enemies to them like moths to a flame, and that wasn’t something Bruno would risk. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he was quite dead, his lack of a heartbeat said as much, but he roamed the world as if nothing happened at all. In truth, he didn’t feel it at all after Giorno miraculously resurrected him from the dark and numb clutches of death just yesterday, but his body reacted to it nonetheless. His organs were undoubtedly failing if they hadn’t already and whatever blood he had left was just being carted around rather than to supply him with oxygen and nutrients and so on. And yet he stumbled from an injured leg, clutched onto his opposite arm, and bled all the same but refused to let any of that stop him.

The capo hesitated stepping into the public eye in such a condition, warily watching the sea of people wander left and right along the sidewalk from where he lingered in the shadows of an alleyway. Golden zippers trailed around his body, the oversized tag dangling and remaining in place where he pulled the gaping holes in his arms and torso shut. He wasn’t worried about them being seen and unless a civilian happened to be a Stand User (which was just his luck), he knew that he could effortlessly move through the crowd if he kept his head down and kept moving. But with the blood that stained his clothing, someone was bound to stop him regardless of if they had unique powers or not. The gestures of kindness from Italy’s citizens and tourists were usually genuine and always appreciated, but he didn’t have the time to stop for so long and he certainly didn’t have time to worry. Clasping a hand around his bicep and over one of the many zippers, Bruno merged into the crowd and slipped from the darkness he considered a temporary safe haven. He kept his head down but high enough to watch where he was going and who was around him, from children to young adults to the elderly. Those who were closest to him gasped and asked him if he needed an ambulance or for them to call for help, only to be quickly thanked and have their offers denied as he picked up as much speed as he could with a leg that worked against him. He wanted to sigh and rip their arm from their grasp.

Just as he was about to turn the corner and make his way down a less populated street, a pair of hands wrapped around his wrist to pull him to a slow halt. Their hold on him was gentle as if they would make things worse if they were rough at all with him and while he knew that wouldn’t have been the case at all, they didn’t. I don’t have time for this, Bruno thought in growing frustration that was starting to slip through the cracks of a calm facade. He stopped in his tracks for only a few seconds and turned to face them with a deep breath before he could lose his composure, ready to pull away and thank them for their worry. But when he turned to face them, his breath became caught in his throat and he couldn’t help but stare back at the person in front of him. The sun above them graced them with enough light to highlight their features, their skin taking on an alluring glow beneath the star’s beams as if they were some kind of ethereal being in a sea of mortals. What was going on with him? Why, and frankly how, was he so starstruck? This has never happened before! He wondered if he was in the hold of a Stand and that brought his guard up in seconds, but quickly realized he could breathe properly and blamed his initial reaction on shock. Their lips—perfectly shaped, he would like to add—moved and he had to snap himself out of his stupor to realize they were trying to speak to him and he was so rudely lost in his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Are you okay? You’re bleeding,” they asked again, glancing between his eyes and his body. Bruno quickly picked up on their accent and how careful they were with how they chose their words. A tourist, he surmised. “I’m not a doctor, but I can help.”

“Ah, right, I’m fine,” Bruno said with a strained smile. “Thank you, but I must be-”

“Not until you’re healing!”

They released him with one hand as the other moved down his wrist to take his and tug him behind them. They were determined, he would give them that, but now wasn’t the best time to be wrapped up in this. Anything that fell from his lips to get them to let go or convince them he was alright was ignored (or simply not understood) as they moved through the crowd of people and off to the side. Their hands fit perfectly within his without so much as trying and if they thought the same they didn’t voice it. Their fingers were curled around his calloused ones with a secure grip that he knew wouldn’t have hurt if he could feel it but kept him from pulling away unless he put some force into it. It was bizarre for him to think that, let alone take some kind of twisted comfort in the touch of a literal stranger to the point he didn’t want to let go. Fortunately they drew to a stop in front of a bench and he was sitting before he could say so much as another word or realize it until the back of his thighs pressed up against something. It was cold, but the coolness of it felt so distant. They sat beside him and faced him, his arm trapped in their grasp as they minutely observed his wounds and murmured under their breath. Bruno bit his tongue when he realized that the blood gushing out was far too much for him to still be conscious, but kept himself calm all the while. He wondered what they would see. Open and deep wounds magically held together by an invisible force-

“You have many zippers,” they commented, tapping the tag of one of them but careful not to pull at it.

Bruno’s eyes narrowed and he watched them critically, but they didn’t seem to notice. “You can see those?”

“Yes?” They said slowly with a lighthearted laugh. “You have interesting fashion.”

A Stand user, that went without saying. The young man instinctively raised his guard and they must have noticed how tense he became because their hold on him softened in favor of squeezing his hand to try and comfort him. He hated to admit it, but it worked a lot easier than he expected and he soon realized that he was holding onto theirs. They seemed too casual to be an enemy and there was no reason to remain in the view of civilians unless they were cocky enough to use their power and make a scene in public. Just in case, he eyed his surroundings for any potential oddities, people, and his own men. For the better or worse, he didn’t see any of that but that didn’t stop him from checking around every now and again. He would never feel so comfortable around an enemy, either. Their eyes were focused on one of his arms and the seemingly never ending wounds, switching to his leg, then his torso and face. They muttered to themself under their breath in a language he couldn’t understand and he realized that rather than them calling for their Stand or whatever else they could possibly have up their sleeve that they were simply talking to themself. There was something oddly adorable about that. They were so gentle with him that for a moment he felt as though, after everything he had done, he didn’t deserve it. They left him speechless despite his attempts at appearing composed and not some weak fool. Swiftly, Bruno banished those thoughts out of his mind in favor of focusing on what really mattered.

“Are you a member of Passione?” He asked, keeping his words slow and simple for them to translate and understand.

“Passione?” They echoed, and by their confusion he realized they really had no idea what he was talking about.

Bruno released an easygoing laugh and smile as his opposite sleeve was rolled up, the zipper disappearing with the revelation of his skin. “I’m sorry. That was an odd question, wasn’t it? And I haven’t even asked for your name.”

It took them a moment to translate what he said and he was patient the whole time as he watched them work. They pulled a small towel from their bag and wet it with what he assumed was some kind of alcohol from a dark plastic bottle before dabbing it against his skin, starting from his hip after hitching the side of his jacket upwards. It soaked up the blood until it could no longer where they then switched to another side of the cloth and only jolted when he realized he was a little too still for someone who was gushing a vital liquid. Bruno wasn’t ignorant, he could see the odd and bizarre looks they got and easily had passersby turning their heads with a sharp glare. He would have barked at them to mind their own business, but he wasn’t trying to scare off the person in front of him. By the awkward ankle his leg was turned at, they didn’t need to say anything for him to know he wouldn’t be walking properly for a good while unless he snapped it back into place and that was something he was willing to do afterwards. It was too risky for him to do in front of the kind but firm tourist without more questions being raised. For someone who wasn’t a doctor, he had to admit that they were rather efficient and they easily made their way up his body starting from his torso to his cheek that he only then realized was injured when they stuck a small patch to it. Their focus remained undisturbed despite the car horns that blared and the chatter of passerby, but they would occasionally glance up to him to make sure he was okay.

“[Your name],” they introduced with a warm smile, attention shifting between him and the final gash they were working on.

“And that?”

Looming over [Your name]’s shoulder was a humanoid figure not unlike his Sticky Fingers. It sported a body type similar to its user, but its alienish features were all for show with a round head and a disproportionate torso. Sprouted from where its ears would be and its mid-back were elegant and feathery white wings that extended outwards proudly, the pair connected to its head smaller but both stiff. Tattooed into [color] skin were golden snakes that weaved together and ended by its shoulders where each head sat, and by the gleam he caught from the angle he sat at he guessed it was symmetrical on its back. Beneath round blackened eyes highlighted by a mimicry of cat eye eyeliner were two red droplets painted into its cheeks, a white plus sign in the middle of each. But what caught his attention the most were the multitude of acupuncture needles poking out of the skin that wasn’t covered by a loose toga like a cactus. A Stand, he recognized without a shadow of a doubt, but unlike his it was transparent like it struggled to take a full physical form. He only then realized that its lower half was missing like it was a ghost, but he supposed a comparison like that wasn’t too far off from the truth. They must not have complete control over it just yet, he thought. Bruno sensed no ill-will from it and if they meant to attack, they were definitely taking their time or lacked the will to do so. The Stand looked away from where its attention lay on his body, but he struggled to understand where its eyes were focused on with no pupil to guide him as if it was looking deep into his soul.

“You can see it?” [Your name] asked in surprise and blinked owlishly at him. When he nodded, their surprise turned to joy within seconds. “No one’s seen it before! I call it…er, how do you say…? Right! Odds and Ends! It’s like a magic guardian angel. It takes the pain away from a wound, but I feel it instead.”

As if on cue, Odds and Ends reached out with a hazy hand and set its fingers by the edges of the wound just below his shoulder, moved to his lower arm, and then down his wrist before switching to the opposite arm. The pink around each gash faded and the color of his bruises did the same like they weren’t there to begin with. It took the pain away (he supposed that also included inflammation), but there was nothing to take away in the first place. Bruno warily watched them both from the corner of his eye as the Stand user retrieved a needle and thread from their bag and got to work closing what their fighting spirit finished. He bit his tongue before he said anything that gave himself away and instead feigned surprise and ghosted his hand over his injuries. Would this be what exposed him and his little secret? Their expression turned to much more genuine shock for a second, their Stand pausing alongside them before getting back to work but with a bit of a hesitance that lasted for only a few moments. Their brows furrowed and while they inspected his knee (to see how bad it truly was, he guessed) they seemed distracted and confused. A few strands of hair fell in front of their face and he slowly but daringly reached out to tuck it behind their ear. His touch must have caused them to snap out of their thoughts because their head flung upwards and they jolted in surprise. They laughed and apologized in what he assumed was their native language and sat upright.

“How strange. I don’t feel anything. How do you feel?” [Your name] asked, looking up to him with eyes he could have gotten entranced in. “Oh, I don’t think I know your name, mister…?

“Bruno. Bruno Bucciarati,” he supplied and followed that with a flawless lie: “I feel perfect, thank you.”

[Your name] didn’t look completely convinced and gazed him up and down as he unrolled his sleeves and pant leg, returning the zippers back into their places as subtly as possible. By the way their eyes lingered on the injuries on his body, he could tell they were curious. Even so, they didn’t ask. Perhaps they were afraid of the answer, or even desensitized to the sight, or were just being polite and staying out of his business. He appreciated the lack of interrogation, regardless of the reason, but found their perception to be noteworthy when they eyed the zipper closest to them. They took the tag into their hand and rubbed their thumb against it and when their gazes met briefly, his desire for them to not pull it must have shown because they let go despite any of their curiosity. Now wasn’t the time to reveal he had a magic guardian angel of his own. He’d leave that as a surprise, and he found it strangely adorable and endearing to see how happy they were to know someone else could see Odds and Ends. They opened their mouth for a moment, translating their upcoming words that hung onto their lips as they released him. Don’t let go almost fell from his own mouth but he bit those back with a vengeance before it could slip out faster than he could catch it.

“You know, Bruno.” The way his name glided across their tongue nearly had him shivering in the middle of the heat. Why? Why was a mere stranger making him act so oddly? He had little time to think about that when they paused in favor of leaning close to him. Just as he was about to lean back, their hand met his face with a feather-light touch and completely unlike anything he had experienced before. Their thumb rested on the soft back of the patch they placed on his cheek earlier, making sure the adhesive was strong enough and that any blood was being soaked by the hidden cotton. “You should be careful. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“But we’re strangers.”

“Maybe,” they hummed, the corners of their lips rising, “But I know your name, yes? That means we’re not strangers.”

“That’s quite naive, don’t you think? I could be someone out to hurt you.”

“If you were, you would have already.”

“Unless I plan on taking advantage of your kindness.”

[Your name] thought for a moment. “But you’re not. My gut never lies to me and it says to me you’re a good man.”

“Bucciarati! Bucciarati! Come on, man! Where are you?!”

The callout surprised the two of them and reminded them that they weren’t, in fact, the only ones in the world, that they were still very much in public, and that he had a mission to carry out. If he could stay here, he absolutely would. Being on the run wasn’t something he ever dreamt of doing and if the Boss was any easier to find he would be initiated in a fight between Stands already. He was known for how elusive he is, and this wild goose chase only proved that even more. Bruno knew that voice and could point it out in a heartbeat so it wasn’t a surprise to him when he recognized it as Mista’s, but to the person beside him, their jumpiness was understandable. He felt a little bad, especially when they became a bit flustered by how obvious they were. He wished for a moment of relaxation, a moment to breathe and tranquility within the utter chaos that was the travels around Italy, and he wished for exactly that in this moment. With them, with the person who made him feel so calm and piqued his curiosity so much without so much as realizing it. Someone who he could listen to all day and was so gentle with him that it made him crave even the smallest of touches so he could experience that spark of kindness and affection he missed out on for most of his life. God, that made him sound like he was in love. The traitor paused. He wasn’t in love, not with someone he just met. That would be ridiculous and he liked to consider himself a rather pragmatic man, not some lovesick fool.

Bruno nearly sighed as he raised himself up onto his feet. He couldn’t delay the inevitable more than he had already and if one of his teammates had come to find him, it only proved to him he took too much time. He should have been upset with himself and scold himself for being so slow and letting this happen to the point that his direct orders—”If I take too long to regroup with all of you, go without me. I’ll catch up. But whatever you do, don’t wait behind me for too long or look for me.”—were broken. His name being called out would only draw attention to their whereabouts, but Mista being so loud was just what he was expecting from him that even if he said something it probably wouldn’t change much. He should have seen this coming and he loved his famiglia, but he was about to smack the gunslinger upside the head for going against his orders. At least it wasn’t Trish. As he was about to excuse himself, he stopped in his tracks when he felt arms wrap around his hips and looked down to [Your name] in clear bafflement. It took him a second, but he realized that they were helping him support his weight and the sight of his leg in such a gnarly state would leave anyone wanting to help. In truth, he could probably walk by himself and ignore the glances, but he couldn’t find it in himself to deny them. The rational part of his brain yelled at him that he didn’t have the time for this, that he had to separate himself from them before he gave in. Unfortunately, he already had and couldn’t find it in himself to want to let go or push them away. Though that didn’t stop his confusion and whatever surprise made that itself known and made them laugh.

“What are you..?”

"Take it easy, you could open your stitches,” [Your name] lightly reprimanded. “That’s a friend, yes? The person who said your name? I’ll help you to them, and then I’ll get out of your pretty hair.”

Bruno blinked before chuckling and nodding, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to convince them once they made up their mind if earlier didn’t prove such. The tall young man curled an arm around them and allowed his hand to brush down their back to their hip where it comfortably sat. It was an innocent touch and action, gently touching your side and making no attempts at moving any lower. He intently watched their reaction to make sure that he wasn’t bothering them or that it wasn’t a sore spot, and if it was he was quick to move his hand a bit higher until they became comfortable. He gaze he sent the tourist from the corner of a blue eye moved past them and to their pockets and bag that hung over their shoulders where a zipper formed. The ghostly form of Sticky Fingers formed behind them and swiftly removed a small wallet that was dropped into his back pocket before his ability disappeared. The person beside him moved to look behind them but the sound of his voice starting a simple conversation drew their attention up to his face where he smiled down at them.

As he walked by their side, Bruno had the feeling you would be seeing one another much more than you both would realize.

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noodlecupcakeswritings · 2 years

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Saviour - Kylo RenxOC (Demon AU) Halloween Challenge 2021

kylo Ren has been summoned from the depths of hell. Rescuing the terrified Sister, he strikes up a deal to ensure her protection. But will she agree and turn her back on her faith?

Week 4 of my Halloween challenge and this week's theme was demons. This is the final week of the challenge, hope you all enjoyed.

Hope you guys enjoy, please leave kudos, comments and reblogs if you do.

Warnings: Religious themes, Nun/Demon sex, Sex, Smut, Vaginal sex, Vaginal fingering, Oral sex, Rituals, Blood, Gore, Violence, Loss of virginity, Corruption kink, Demon deals, Demon summoning

Cora

Exiting the monastery, I quickly headed into the nearby woods to meet with Father Hux. He’d confided in me earlier about the orphans staying in the woods and how they needed food and blankets. As a previous orphan myself, I wanted to do anything I could to help. I lifted my lantern higher so I could see better as I followed the path. The woods were always more frightening at night; it was too quiet, too many shadows. But with God on my side, I knew I would be safe from harm. I lifted my other hand to the rosary around my neck, praying under my breath.

Eventually I saw a figure up ahead, the ginger hair of Father Hux unmistakable even in the dark. Relief filled me at the sight of a familiar face. I joined him in the clearing, glancing around for signs of the orphans he’d mentioned. “Sister, I’m so glad you could make it,” Hux greeted. “Of course, I’m glad to help.” Hux smiled and took the basket from me, setting it down to the side. “You can come out now, it’s just my friend,” Hux called to them.

Instead of children, a group of hooded men came out from the trees and bushes instead. A feeling of dread formed in the pit of my stomach, were we about to be robbed? “Restrain her,” Hux ordered. My fear had glued me to the spot and by the time they reached me, it was too late to run. I tried to scream, but the realization that nobody was coming to save me soon set in. My wrists were bound behind my back before they tied my ankles together. Tears rolled down my cheeks as my cloak was torn from me and I was forced to the floor.

“Why are you doing this?” I whimpered. “We needed a pure sacrifice and what better than a nun,” Hux answered with a soft shrug. Sacrifice? I’d been warned about devil worship, I had heard stories of their rituals and sacrifices. But why was this happening to me? I couldn’t think of anything I had done that might evoke God’s wrath, I hadn’t sinned; I hadn’t strayed from his path. I didn’t deserve a fate such as this. And what cut deeper was I had been deceived by someone I trusted. Father Hux had never given me reason to doubt or mistrust him, he’d always been kind and helpful.

The men looked to Hux for further instructions, for the next step in the ritual. Hux produced a blade from his robes in response. The men held out their palms and allowed Hux to slice their skin open before they spilled their blood on the ground. Hux cut his own palm before stepping closer to me. Silently I prayed, prayed for forgiveness, a saviour, divine intervention, an angel, anything that could save me. The other men formed a circle around us, one of them striking a match and throwing it to the floor. Fire surrounded us, with no escape in sight. My crying turned to sobbing at the realization I was going to die. “Please, don’t do this,” I begged.

Hux ignored my pleas as the others began a chant in a language I didn’t recognize. Hux rolled me on to my back, kneeling by my side. He joined in with the chant, raising the dagger high above his head. I closed my eyes, as if to shield myself from my own fate. I continued to repeat the lord’s prayer over and over in my head, waiting for the pain to come. Instead came a low rumbling noise from the ground, slowly growing louder with every passing second. It soon sounded like the ground was opening up and something was emerging. I kept my eyes closed, too afraid to look. Was I about to be dragged down to the fiery pits of hell for an eternity of suffering?

The heat from the flames seemed to fade as if they had been extinguished and no longer was Hux holding me down. Hesitantly, I opened my eyes, taking in my surroundings. I was still alive, still in the forest. Hux was wide eyed staring at something behind me. If Hux was afraid of what he had summoned, I could only imagine how horrifying it was. The thing behind me took off to the left instead, attacking one of Hux’s men. A blood-curdling scream filled the air, and I prayed aloud. Hux glanced between me and the forest before getting to his feet and running as far as he could. Coward. The forest was filled with more screams, sounds of flesh tearing and bones breaking.

I wriggled into a better position and began trying to put some distance between myself and the carnage. The forest fell silent again. Now sitting up, I took in the scene before me. The five men who helped with the ritual were now dead, their blood straining the grass, their limbs and bodies strewn across the clearing haphazardly. There was a soft growl from behind me, my head turning in that direction to finally gaze upon the beast. There, towering over me at seven feet tall, stood a demon. The moonlight allowed me to see its features. Two great black horns sat atop its head, curling back on themselves, although the left one was missing the tip as if it had been broken off. Thick black hair stopped beneath its chin. The creature studied me with black eyes, a scar streaked across its face.

Its fangs were bared, its hands were claw like. And as my gaze continued its descent, I soon realized it was naked. I looked away, resuming my praying, and trying to shift away. I didn’t get far thanks to the bindings, now on my back and facing the demon. He crouched, cocking his head as he watched me. The thing was likely toying with me. “I’m not going to kill a beautiful thing like you,” it spoke, its voice deep. “Then w-what are you going to do to me?” I asked, my voice coming out small and pathetic. The demon came closer, as if to get a better look at me. And now I could get a better look at it. And now I understood why they had warned me the devil would be beautiful. It must be like that for all his demons.

The demon smirked softly before snapping his fingers. Somehow, my bonds became loose, and I slipped my wrists free before working on my legs. He’d freed me, I didn’t understand why. But what really didn’t make sense was how he was here when I hadn’t been sacrificed. “I thought I had to die for you to be summoned?” I questioned. “Virgin blood had been spilled. Although the culprit seems to have run off like a coward.” Oh. Anger filled me at the thought the Hux had gotten away with this, he should have died too so he could face God’s judgement. But I became uneasy once more as I noticed the demon hadn’t answered my previous question.

“I won’t tell anyone about you at the church, I swear it,” I promised, hoping that would be enough to convince it. “You think it wise to go back there after this? The man who tried to kill you will also likely return there and if he finds out you're alive, he’ll have to make sure you stay quiet or risk exposure.” My shoulders slumped as I realized he was right. If Hux and I both went back, Hux would kill me to ensure his secret stayed safe. I couldn’t go back, but I had nowhere else to go. Fresh tears lined my eyes for the third time tonight.

“Shhh, not all is lost. I could help you. Again,” the demon offered. Again? Well, I suppose he had ensured I was spared just by his mere presence. But making a deal with a demon was a dangerous path that I wouldn’t go down, no matter how desperate. “I prayed for a saviour-“ I started. “And here I am,” he smirked cockily. It felt like my faith was crumbling before my eyes; it didn’t make sense for God to send me a demon instead of an angel. It didn’t make sense for a man of the cloth to have tried to kill me tonight, either. Had God abandoned me? And if he had, I would truly have nothing. My gaze settled on the demon again, perhaps he could help me after all.

I hugged my knees to my chest to try and comfort myself, to calm my racing thoughts. The demon sighed, his expression becoming sympathetic. “You’ve had a stressful night so much, so it’s making you question your faith. I’m probably not helping matters. So let’s start over. I’m Kylo,” he introduced, offering me his clawed hand. “Cora,” I replied, hesitantly shaking its hand. “Now, don’t feel too disheartened. You prayed for a saviour, likely an angel in mind. Well, demons were once angels. So technically you got what you wanted.” I suppose that made some sense, although it did little to make me feel better about the situation.

“You said you could help me,” I said hesitantly. Kylo grinned wolfishly, “I did. I can kill that coward for you, ensure your safety. But I’ll need something in return.” The way his eyes trailed over my body told me what he wanted in return. My innocence. A vow that I had sworn never to break in return for my veil. “No, I can’t give you…that. There must be something else, anything else,” I spoke. “What else could you have to offer me but your purity? What else has more value to me than your innocence?”

Nothing. Kylo leaned in closer, his hand cupping my cheek as his thumb traced the curve of my lips. A heat spread across my cheeks, I could catch his thumb if I wanted too, if I was bold enough. “Aren’t you all created in God’s image? Do you think God doesn’t indulge in such pleasures and desires?” Kylo questioned. I chewed my lip; he had a point. Kylo’s lips were now inches from mine, the tension between us growing. “Give in, Sister. I cannot take what isn’t offered,” he said.

With no other choice, I succumbed to my desire as I closed the gap between us to kiss him. Kylo smiled, taking control of the kiss because of my inexperience. The kiss brought a new heat between my legs as he sealed the deal with his tongue. I half expected him to tear my habit and veil from me, but he took his time, seemingly doing things on my terms. Kylo continued to kiss me slowly and passionately, one hand wrapping around my waist to pull me closer. Never had I felt such desire, such arousal before. The heat between my legs had grown into an ache, and I needed his hands all over me.

I set aside my veil alongside my vows, revealing my long black hair to him. Kylo ran his fingers through it with a soft smile as I continued to give myself to him in a way that no mortal man would have me. Kylo descended down my body, pushing my skirts up over my hips as he positioned himself between my legs. He trailed his lips up my inner thigh, my hips bucking softly. Kylo smirked, pulling my panties down my legs before kissing me where I needed it most. He watched me with those inky black eyes as his tongue delved between my lips to taste me.

I moaned at the new pleasurable sensation, throwing my head back. I never imagined I could be pleasured in such ways. Kylo lapped at me hungrily, groaning at my taste. The sound had me blushing, but further aroused. I had always been taught sex was purely for male pleasure and making children that I wondered if women could feel pleasure at all. Kylo’s tongue was proving otherwise, proving the lies my faith had blinded me with. He hoisted my legs over my shoulders before I felt two human fingers at my entrance instead of his claws, perhaps he had partially changed his form. Slowly, he pushed his fingers into me, making a come-hither motion.

My pleasure only grew at the addition of his fingers, forcing louder moans from me. A tightness formed in my belly, growing tighter with every passing second, as did my pleasure. Until finally the tightness burst, and the pleasure became overwhelming. I cried out, my nails digging into the soil beneath me. The euphoria continued, stealing the air from my lungs. Was I dying? Was this what heaven felt like? Either way, I longed for that pleasure again. The feeling slowed before passing, only then did Kylo stop. He made his way back up to my lips, smirking softly. “Forbidden fruit always tastes better,” Kylo stated.

Positioned between my legs, I could feel his hard cock pressed against my wetness. If his tongue could bring me such pleasure, I wondered if his cock could do the same. Kylo grasped his cock at the base before pushing into me, slowly, so I could feel every thick inch of him sink into me. There was no pain like I had been taught, only new pleasures for me to explore and enjoy. Finally, he stopped, now buried to the hilt in my tightness. I had never imagined feeling such a fullness. I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Please,” I breathed, unsure what I was begging for.

Only then did Kylo move, pulling out of me before pushing back in. He set a slow rhythm as my body still adjusted to the delicious stretch of his cock. The usual sounds of the forest were replaced by our gasps and moans, the moon bathing us in its light. “More, please,” I whined. Lust had completely consumed me, as had greed. I craved more; I needed all of him. Kylo’s pace increased, his hips smacking against mine. My nails dragged across his back, but the sting only seemed to spur him on as he captured my lips in a hungry kiss.

“Oh god, Kylo,” I moaned. “That’s right, Sister. I’m your God now.” Kylo bit at my neck, sucking the sensitive flesh there long enough to leave a mark. A mark that claimed me as his. He reached between our bodies, finding my sensitive bundle of nerves, and rubbing in slow circles. “Cum, Sister. Cum and seal the deal,” he encouraged. That feeling returned, building, and building before pleasure erupted and filled my veins once more. All I could do was moan and scream his name, truly renouncing my god for Kylo.

Kylo held me still as he pushed into me a final time with a guttural groan, filling me with his seed. After a few exchanged hot and heavy breaths, he pulled out and lay beside me. Suddenly I remembered myself, as if the hazy spell of lust had been lifted from me. Guilt consumed me as I fought back tears. I had lain with a demon; I had sinned in so many ways. God would not forgive this. Quickly, I replaced my veil and shakily got to my feet. “You will uphold your end of the deal?” I asked. “I will.”

Nodding, I made a start towards the path as Kylo got to his feet. Before I could get far, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. That feeling of dread filled me again, he wasn’t finished yet. “Where are you going, Sister?” He asked. “B-back to the monastery.” “They won’t allow you back now, they’ll smell the damnation on you. And how would you explain it when my seed takes root in you, makes your belly swell with my child? No, Sister. You're mine now.”

Taglist: @chaoticrambles

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boneandfur · 2 years

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The Stars Are Fire

rated Explicit // summary: Kenna meets a general, and Diavolos fights for the glory of Rome. // tag list: @darley1101 @ritachacha @debramcg1106 @indiacater @thatcatlady0716 @enmchoices @breaumonts @walkerismychoice @princess-geek @nomadics-stuff @blackcatkita @thefirstcourtesan

CHAPTER TWO

The Hand of Fate

Time, the devourer of all things. - Ovid

“May I present Kenna, my most accomplished courtesan.” Lena makes the introductions, but Kenna barely hears them. Venus’ Sacred Arte… Lyre… Conversationalist.

“So. You are the Princess.” Antony looks her up and down, and a muscle ticks in his jaw. Kenna is not sure what she has done to displease him already, but she sets her mettle.

If he sees my weakness, it is over. And I will never be truly free...

He loved her, you see… I take a great risk in sending you to him, for I both fear and hope you may remind him of Sura, as you remind me...

“I am the queen of the Cordonii. I would not claim to be what I am not, which is a mere princess.” Shaking out her crimson skirts, Kenna meets Antony’s dark, calculating gaze with a stubborn tilt of her chin.

Antony quirks a brow at Lena. “You always provide such… unexpected pleasures. Where have you been hiding this pearl?”

“In the shell of the scholae.” A pleased smile lifts the corners of Lena’s red lips. “Burnished by the sands until she could emerge from the foam, a barbarian Venus.”

“You may depart.” Antony nods to Lena, who nods quickly to Kenna and takes her leave. Kenna follows the gaze of her bodyguard, a burly man with gray hair, as it follows the sway of Lena’s hips. I trust Gabriel. He reminds her of Leonides in some ways, her mother's most trusted warrior, who never left Adriana’s side… Even in death. Gabriel stands a ways from the chairs, his somber old legionary's gaze fixed upon the arena below. The day is hot, with barely a breeze, the only movement in the air provided by the slaves fanning them with palm fronds.

“So… you were a queen. And I suppose you rode bare breasted on horseback like a Scythian when you fought the Romans?” The condescension in Antony’s tone is palpable.

“I never fought the Romans.” Kenna fights back the red fury that has settled in her marrow, selecting a perfect grape from the tray of delicacies before them, and rolling it between her fingers for a moment. “I fought the Abanthii, and the Bellatorii, and the other tribes, until I bound them all together against our common foe. The Romans stayed out of our war, but my enemy had made negotiations with them behind my back.”

Her blood still boils at the memory, but she presents the grape in her hand to Antony, the dark purple globe a peace offering of sorts. Antony’s brows raise, but he takes it from her palm, his fingers brushing the center, and presses the grape between her lips. The juice is tart yet sweet, and as it explodes over her tongue, Kenna makes a surprised sound of bliss, excruciatingly aware of Antony’s dark eyes upon her.

You could do much worse than Antony for a patron, Kenna. I have the greatest of faith in you. Do not remind him too much of Sura, though, I beg of you.

But it is what it is, and Kenna is who she is, And I am Irithia.

“No wonder your punishment was so lenient, then.” Antony brushes a calloused thumb over the soft skin of Kenna’s knuckles. “I would have invited you to my bed, to negotiate our peace out there.” At the sudden widening of her eyes, he laughs. “Your enemy must have been dead from the waist down for not considering it…”

Kenna can barely contain the shudder of revulsion at the memory of Luther’s dead, flat eyes as he stood above her kneeling form in the palace wood, a smile playing upon his thin lips.

“At last, you are on your knees before me, Kenna of the Cordonii. Your ally has betrayed you. The man you might have wed, in another life.”

Kenna’s heart sank in her chest, turning her veins to lead. Not him… Not Diavolos.

Luther tipped her chin up with the point of his glaive, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Tevan of the Fydorii will now wed my daughter Zenobia instead, as reward for his loyalty.”

Her former ally, with his eyesore Tyrian purple tunic and cloak, shuffled into view. He could not meet her eyes, blazing with accusation, and instead looked down at the head of his new bride, who hung on his forearm like a limpet. “Kenna… I'm sorry, Kenna…”

Kenna surged forward against her bonds, spitting blood in Tevan’s face. Luther’s pet Amazon, Helene, backhanded her hard, and when Kenna fell, kicked her in the stomach for good measure. Kenna lay in the dirt, stunned, the cuts she had taken in battle beginning to sting.

Tevan wiped his face, eyes streaming. “I had to do it, Kenna. Luther took Aurynn hostage while she was helping tend the wounded behind the lines! He would have killed her, and she's my only family left, Kenna…”

“I would have helped you rescue her, Tevan! You only had to ask.”

“But blood is thicker than water, Kenna, and how could I know that you would stick your neck out for the Fydorii when we all knew you'd been negotiating a coup with the son of our enemy by slipping into that Abanthii general’s bed!”

Luther's face went slack with disbelief, and then his mouth set in a hard line. That was when Kenna knew it was all over. “What would you do with her, Tevan?”

Tevan looked nervously at Luther, still refusing to meet Kenna’s eye. “What better way to give the Romans a show of good faith than to send Kenna to Rome as a hostage? This pledges that the tribes still loyal to her will not fight Roman rule… Even though we may fight each other.”

“Well, well. My new son in law is an orator as well as a diplomat.” Luther's eyes gleamed.

Zenobia cleared her throat. “Father… if I may?”

“We are not killing her, so your daggers will not be needed here, daughter.” Luther did not look at Zenobia.

“If I may take a page from my…” Zenobia blushed deeply, “M-m-my husband’s scroll, we should make the tribes think she is perished. Then they might be crushed easier beneath the heel.”

“Ah. I see.” Luther’s boots came to rest beside Kenna’s head. He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back and exposing her throat. “Nothing would please me more than to split you open from collarbone to cunt, as I did to your mother. Helene?” With his Amazon’s strength pinning Kenna’s arms back and his hand over her mouth, Luther wrenched the serpent armlet from Kenna’s arm with the help of his dagger. “But this will suffice.”

“...But some men were made for wartime, and have forgone the pleasures of the flesh.” Antony’s intense dark gaze rests upon hers, dragging Kenna back to the present. There is a carnal knowing in his eyes that makes the hairs on the back of Kenna’s neck rise on end, but not from fear.

“Who would dare to go against Venus with such sacrilege?” Her throaty whisper makes Antony’s pupils darken, and his eyes roam the shape of her under her gauzy dress, as if she is some taverna slut he wants to fuck up against the wall of an alleyway. “A man made for only war must be made of stone indeed.” She brushes her hand over his thigh, and she knows that if they were not in the stands of the arena right now, he would push her skirts to her hips, and bury his cock inside of her.

“There. There is a man who was made for war.” Antony gestures down at the gate, rising to welcome a new gladiator into the arena, and Kenna feels the blood drain from her head so fast that the world spins.

Not him. Not Diavolos.

•••

Diavolos has spent the last few hours before his fight preparing himself mentally. He has fought for the ludus exactly six times in the past two years, this will be the seventh. Most gladiators do not fight more than three times a year, but if Leonius and Lysiam are to be believed, he has been specially requested after his bout with the Gaul, not two months gone.

You will square off against another Dimachaerus from our father’s ludus, Lysiam had confided, barely able to keep the excitement from his voice, and then you will participate in the spectacle, which features the winners from every fight in the Games today.

You know that we cannot grant your freedom -- but if you can win this, it will bring honor to our gladiator school, and you will be one of the most famous gladiators in all of Rome! Leonius clapped a hand on Diavolos’ shoulder. Every man will want to be you, and every woman will want to fuck you!

Did you like the present in your quarters last night? Just think how things will change for us when you are able to move more freely among society, for the honor of our house!

But Diavolos does not want to win the Games for the house of Leonius and Lysiam. Don't these men know that he is two times dead already? He died first when Kenna’s bloodied serpent armlet was shown to the tribes as proof of her death, and then a second time when he was hauled off to Rome in chains. Honor… that is all he has left. And if he wins, it will not be for himself… But for the memory of dark eyes and dark hair, and an Irithian princess.

The gate opens, and Diavolos touches the silver serpent on his arm just once, for luck.

•••

“What's going on? Ei! Let go of me!” Val watches the commotion in the cell across from her with glee. The self-styled Venator, Tariqus, is given the two swords of the Dimachaerus, and ushered out the door of his cell. “Bitch!” He spits on the ground before her door. “I know you have something to do with this. You'd better lock your door when you get back to the ludus, because after I bash this man's skull in, I'm going to spill your guts and fuck you bloo-- I said, let go of me!”

Val’s laughter follows Tariqus all the way to the arena.

•••

Kenna holds herself perfectly still as the fighters square off, aware of Antony’s eyes upon her. I cannot let him know. And yet, she cannot tear her eyes away from Diavolos. He is fighting Dimachaerus style, with a sword in each hand, and no armor. The scars that criss cross across his rippling bronzed chest and back lay proof to his bloody trade.

“He is a good fighter, do you not agree?” Antony’s dark eyes are studying her, and Kenna rips her gaze from Diavolos, who is circling the other man, dodging every thrust and slash, tiring him out, and nicking him stylistically with the point of his blade. The crowd cheers. He must be a favorite.

“I am sure you are better.” Kenna looks up at the dark haired Roman from under her lashes, tilting her head just so, so he cannot miss the double meaning of her words.

“Do not mock me, Princess.” Antony’s words are stern, but she has pleased him, she can tell. When he trails his hand up her bare thigh, under the slit of her skirts, she allows it, letting her thighs fall apart.

After all, he has paid for this.

“Keep on watching him, if it pleases you so.” Antony’s voice is a low growl in her ear. His skillful fingers deftly begin to stroke the damp cleft between her legs, focusing on her clit.

“It does not please me.” Kenna smiles sweetly, able to keep the lie in her voice from betraying the lie in her heart. “As you say, that man is a mere foot soldier, and you are a god of war.”

•••

The man from the ludus of Leonius and Lysius’ father has begun to tire, sweat dripping into his eyes. He is not a big man, his midsection already softened with the fat of a life spent drinking on a couch, and Diavolos wonders for a split second what life choices could cause a nobleman to be thrust into the gladiator’s pits. But it does not matter.

“They have come here to see a show, Grecian! And you do nothing but mince about like a woman!” Diavolos’ deep baritone is a carrying one, and the crowd takes up the cue from his mocking bellow, booing at the Grecian. Diovolos is a crowd favorite, after all, and the Grecian? He is no one.

Letting out a yell of rage, the Grecian barrels towards Diavolos, who neatly side steps him, tripping him. The Grecian goes sprawling into the sand and then Diavolos is on him, fighting fast and hard with his blades. The Grecian falls to the sand, Diavolos’ blade at his throat, babbling for mercy.

Kill… kill… kill!

And Diovolos no longer fights the bloodlust inside of him, but lets it overtake him.

#n*fw #kenna x diavolos #diavolos nevrakis #kenna rhys #tcatf #a courtesan of rome #acor playchoices #choices #choices fanfic #long post #the royal romance #crossover #historical au

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seriouslyhooked · 3 years

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Feels Like This (Part 11)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey all! I am so excited to share this chapter for a number of reasons, one of them being that we get a new POV that is not Emma or Killian. That’s right, today I am including Elsa as one of our storytellers too. But don’t worry, as much as we’ll be learning about Elsa and Anna’s past and Elsa and Liam’s attraction to each other, there will still be some CS cuteness. Because it is me, there is also a LOT of fluff and feels abounding. It’s hard to say much more without spoiling, so, without further ado, I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for the support and good vibes!

Wandering through the woods at the far reach of the Institute, Elsa did her best to stave off the worry that had clung to her heart all night. She hardly slept, tossing and turning, gripped with agitation, and all because today, at long last, the truth would come out.

It wasn’t that she enjoyed lying all this time, or that Elsa was desirous to keep her story hidden any longer. This was simply reflex. For years she and her sister had guarded their real origins from nearly everyone they met. Only a select few people in the world knew anything of Elsa and Anna’s past, and those secret keepers had not been chosen by her or her sister. They were thrust into this situation as children, but today they would take a leap of faith and share the truth with a new, but genuine friend.

Emma is deserving of our trust, Elsa reasoned to herself, continuing an argument she’d had internally for weeks. She and Anna had both agreed Emma was someone they could confide in and they believed in her goodness and her ability to keep a secret. They had both yearned for the chance to share this truth with someone – anyone - and now they had it. But it had gotten so much more complicated at the same time, and all thanks to the royal visit that happened yesterday.

When she and Anna moved to Montenarro and began working at the Institute, they both knew the slight risk that existed of their being found out. Public curiosity had long ago waned about their family, enough so that they felt capable of using their real first names in applying for the job, but members of the aristocracy were different. They memorized lineages, and studied other families of note, across country lines. The royal family of Montennaro may not come to the Center often, but they did sponsor and fund this charity. As such, there may come a time when they encountered the royals. This was, theoretically, not a huge issue, at least not in Anna’s eyes. After all, Anna had never actually met any member of the royal family, and so had no chance of being recognized. She assumed that Elsa was in the same boat, and that would make sense, for the sisters had done nearly everything together their whole lives.

Selfishly, Elsa allowed her sister’s assumption of their past run ins with the royals to stand, even though it was not accurate. She omitted the truth, about a moment in time that felt light years away and yet so cherished even now, because she wanted to stay here in Montennaro. It was her and Anna’s dream to do good works, to make use of all their many years of study back in France, and to leave the world a little brighter than how they had found it. After everything they had been through, Elsa so dearly wished to give back to children in need alongside her sister. There were no other opportunities like this one, no Centers that provided as much for their pupils, and no other place that felt like a home, not since the passing of their Grandmere. So Elsa had bit her tongue, and enjoyed the years of obscurity they found here with the children, always praying that her secret from her sister would never come to light.

Things obviously changed when Killian arrived, and when it was announced that the youngest son of the royal line would be here, working alongside them, almost every day. The panic Elsa carried with her was profound, but after hesitation in the beginning, Elsa realized there was nothing to fear from the Prince. Prince Killian had no connection to her, and he was instantly consumed by his attraction to Emma. There was no fear of him discovering who she and Anna were, not when he was distracted and totally besotted by her friend.

Only when she and Anna spoke with Killian after the parade did Elsa begin to worry again, not because she thought her friend would lose out on the clearly true love she’d found with Killian, but because it was clear as day that Emma and the prince would one day be married. That was a wonderful thing, but it would make a friendship between Elsa and Anna and Emma so much harder. Guarding this secret would become even more difficult if they regularly saw people who held so many breadcrumbs from the past. Elsa had grown more and more worried about it, but it was ultimately Anna who made the decision.

“There’s only one thing to do,” Anna said the night of Killian and Emma’s reconciliation. “We have to tell Emma the truth. I think the danger for us has long since passed, but even so, it’s best to tell her what we’ve been through. Just in case. That way, when they marry, as we both know they will, we can sidestep the whole awkward RSVP thing. It’ll be a shame to miss it, but it can’t be risked. Not if we want to keep hiding.”

Elsa was simultaneously relieved at Anna’s idea, and guilty at the fact that she still wasn’t being totally honest. In truth, it was eating her up inside, and she just didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

Not much longer now. You’ll tell them both everything today. As soon as Emma gets here.

At that moment, Elsa came to the part of a wooded clearing where green grass met the bank of a bubbling stream. The clear spring water flowed across rocks and moss, gurgling along in a measured, soothing melody. It was nothing like the mighty river they’d grown up on, which was loud and thunderous and strong, but still, a lullaby from her childhood filtered through Elsa’s mind, and a memory of their mother singing to her and Anna transported her back to the life they used to have…

“Sing it again, Mama, please?” Anna pleaded, snuggling into bed and holding Elsa close as she did. The two of them had their own beds, and their own rooms, but every night Anna made her way here, insisting that she and Elsa needed to be together. Elsa never tried to fight it. She loved Anna, and she always slept better with her sister beside her.

“Anna, darling, it’s late. Far too late for my two little princesses to still be awake. How will you ever rise with the sun if you never go to sleep?”

Their mother’s green eyes shone with mischief, but also so much love. She was pretending to deny them, but she could never say no to Anna. It was only a matter of time before she repeated the lullaby again, and Elsa couldn’t wait. She loved her mother’s voice. It was like warm honey in her father’s favorite tea. A splash of simple sweetness that made all the difference in the world.

“I promise to go right to bed. Look, I’ll even close my eyes,” Anna said eagerly, shutting her eyes so tight her face scrunched with the effort. Elsa shook with silent laughter and watched her mother do the same. Then their mother sighed and yielded to the request.

“Oh, all right. Now let’s see here. How does it start again…?”

Anna’s eyes popped open as she fed her the line. “Where the north wind meets the sea!” she exclaimed, and their mother shook her head even as she smiled.

“Ah, ah, ah. Eyes closed remember?”

Anna nodded and closed her eyes again before whispering. “You help her, Elsa. You and Mama sing. I love it when you sing.”

“Ok, Anna,” she agreed, taking her sisters hand and squeezing it gently. Then she and her mother looked at each other and started the song together.

“Where the north wind meets the sea There’s a river full of memory Sleep, my darling, safe and sound For in this river all is found

In her waters, deep and true Lay the answers and a path for you Dive down deep into her sound But not too far or you’ll be drowned

Yes, she will sing to those who’ll hear And in her song, all magic flows But can you brave what you most fear? Can you face what the river knows?

Where the north wind meets the sea There’s a mother full of memory Come, my darling, homeward bound When all is lost, then all is found”

In the short time they sang the song, Elsa felt Anna’s hold on her soften, but she wasn’t quite asleep yet. Elsa held a finger up to her mother, a signal that they should sing it through once more, and by the time that was done, Anna’s breathing had evened out and she was already dreaming. She was nearly impossible to wake once sleeping, so Elsa felt free to speak to her mother in a quiet tone.

“Anna still thinks if we search hard enough by the riverside, we’ll find the magic in the song.”

“But you don’t?” Her mother asked and Elsa shook her head.

“No. I think magic like that is just in stories.”

“Perhaps, but I like to think our magic – real magic – is just a little bit different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you’re right, the lullaby goes hand in hand with our old folk stories, the legends of Arendelle shared for hundreds of years. In those stories people had abilities that no ordinary human should have.”

“Like superheroes,” Elsa offered, and her mother smiled.

“Exactly. But just because we can’t wield water or ice or flames doesn’t mean we can’t make a difference. And you know how you make the biggest difference?” Elsa shook her head. “With love and with kindness. The way you love your sister, the way you love your father and I, the way you love everyone here in the manor, that is your greatest gift, my dear. And someday you will change the lives of so many people all by showing them great love and compassion.”

“You really think that’s magical?” Elsa asked, letting the idea wash over her. She always tried her best to do right and to be good to other people. That was what her parents had taught her. She liked the idea that by being good she was using a superpower, and the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Everyone did seem so much happier when she was kind and patient, and at the end of the day, that was the greatest gift – to be happy.

“Oh yes. It’s an old magic, one that is so much more powerful than people give it credit for. But once you know of it, it’s your job to keep it strong. You must never give up hope, and you must always follow your heart and do the next right thing.”

“The next right thing,” Elsa agreed, not thinking too much of it as sleep was beginning to creep near. The hour was late, and she was tired too, but she wanted to stay awake and enjoy this time with her mother. She and Anna often had to share their time with their parents, and it always made Elsa feel special to be with her one on one. As if she could read Elsa’s mind, her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead and made a promise.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow, my darling. Now, get some sleep.”

Elsa had no idea that that night with her mother would be the last, and that everything she took for granted as the pillars of her world would be stolen in an instant. They’d gone from peace and contentment to total upheaval in the blink of an eye, and she and Anna were whisked away immediately, saved by little more than luck and the will of fate herself. The pain of that day would be etched in her soul forever, and so would the grief of losing the only home she’d ever known. But now, after decades of wishing things were different, Elsa could look back and be grateful, not for the troubles that had come, but for the sacred moments they did have with their parents before they were gone. It was hard to look back, but it was also a blessing. To have been so deeply loved that death could not sever the tie, that was something that had kept Elsa strong, and what she would cling to today especially.

Unwillingly, Elsa’s mind wandered at just the thought of love, to a man who bewildered her and drew her in all at once. He was always meant to be a beautiful memory, a boy she knew one summer’s day who showed her kindness and kissed her senseless. She could never confess how much she’d thought of him that summer. It was a girlhood infatuation that rivaled any other. Truth be told, he never was fully forgotten. He was always there in the back of her mind, until they’d moved here and she’d seen a random tabloid in the corner store. On the cover was a picture of a beautiful man – the King of Montenarro – and staring back at her were the same blue eyes from her girlhood dreams, if a little colder than she remembered.

That night she’d poured over the gossip rag and scoured the internet, waiting only until Anna went to bed before falling into a sinkhole of information. She read all about what he’d done since they had met, and how he’d stepped up to rule in a country that needed more than a little bit of hope. He was fair and wise and just, and passionate about making this country prosperous for all. Most recently he’d been working on his initiative to give all people in the country more say in government, and she thought that was admirable and knew how hard a task it must be. For years she’d watched and read the headlines, tracking his progress, while trying to avoid the speculation on things like his future and his love life. There was always talk about who the King would one day marry, and though Elsa knew she would be nothing but a forgotten blip in his past, it still hurt her to think of the boy who’d touched her heart belonging to another.

“Touched my heart,” she said aloud, scoffing with the foolishness of the thought. “As if I haven’t been secretly giving it to him for years. God, what a mess this all is.”

At confessing her feelings, which had mostly developed from afar, Elsa’s hands began to shake. Even if she’d thought of him often, it never in a million years occurred to her that they would ever reunite. But yesterday they had, and it was even more intense than she remembered. All day she felt his eyes on her, watching her every move. At all stages of the visit she could feel his presence, and it spun her whole world upside down. Never mind seeing him with the children, and watching him come out of his shell to offer them genuine affection. That had truly done her in, and almost made her forget herself. A few times they’d managed to speak, but Elsa always found an opportunity to run or to distract. She longed for that closeness, but was scared to death of letting someone – especially him – behind her many walls.

By the time she made her way back to her and Anna’s home, it was nearly time for Emma’s arrival and Elsa was nowhere closer to composure. She tried to breathe deeply, using some mindfulness to clear her thoughts, but her pulse was racing and her hands still shook. No matter – it was too late to run now. She had to face this head on. There was simply no other way.

A minute later she opened up the door, and within seconds, Anna was on her, enveloping her in a huge bear hug and prompting an emotional reaction in Elsa. Her sister was scared too, but Elsa could tell that underneath it all Anna was excited. She didn’t even need to see her face to know that there was relief in sharing their story. Anna had never liked living a lie, and the burden of it weighed on her always. Knowing that, Elsa hugged her back and whispered words of encouragement.

“It’s going to be all right, Anna. Remember what Mama used to say.”

“All you can do is the next right thing,” Anna replied shakily before nodding. “This is the right thing.”

Elsa had just enough time to agree before a knock sounded at the front door. “Are you ready?” Elsa asked and Anna nodded.

“I’m ready.”

“Okay, then let’s do this.”

………….

Sitting in the kitchen of Elsa and Anna’s small but charming house, Emma could practically taste the anxiety in the air. Whatever was going on with her friends was electric, and the room crackled with unsaid words Emma was increasingly eager to hear. Despite that, she could tell her friends needed a bit of an ice breaker, and she used one of her surest tactics to provide one.

“I’m sorry I’m a little later than we planned. Henry was on another level this morning. I love him more than anything, but he’s just so…”

“Helpful?” Anna offered.

“Curious?” Elsa countered.

“I was going more for something like ‘verbose.’ I swear he’s always got a dozen stories he can tell and today was no different. Actually, it was worse, because Killian was there last night, and you know how he gets with Killian.”

“He loves him,” Elsa said automatically, prompting Emma to smile warmly.

“He told Killian last night. It was so easy for him. He didn’t think twice, he just said exactly how he feels.”

“Oh, Emma,” Anna said, happily taking her hand after putting a tray of pastries on the counter. “That’s wonderful. What did Killian say?”

“That he loves him too.”

“I knew I liked that man for a reason,” Anna replied glibly. “Though, to be fair, it’s impossible not to love Henry. He’s the cutest, even if he hates me saying it.”

“Killian said something else too,” Emma said, waiting for Elsa to sit down with their tea. She watched her friends slightly shaky hands pour each of them a cup before spilling the beans. “He told me he sees a future, for us, the three of us. He said… well he said he loves me, and that no matter what he wants to be with me. Forever.”

The sounds of secondhand joy that came from both her friends made Emma even happier, though it also prompted a blush she’d been trying pretty hard to fend off.

“And what did you say?!”

“That I love him too.”

“Forever?”

“Definitely.”

“Oh my God, this is exactly what I needed today,” Anna said happily. “You don’t even know.” Belatedly it seemed to dawn on her – that was actually why Emma was here in the first place.

“I really don’t want to push, but it sounded yesterday like the two of you had something you really want to tell me. I promise whatever is said here, it’s between us. I’m still kind of new to the whole having good friends thing, but I can keep a secret.”

There was only a moment of silence between them before Elsa replied. She centered herself with a deep breath in to start and then let it out and looked directly at Emma. “You have to understand that all of her hesitation has nothing to do with you. We trust you. We do. It’s just been years of training ourselves to hide this part of our past, and keep the story in check so no one ever questions it.”

“Years?” Anna barked out hollowly. “More like our whole lives. Honestly, I barely remember a time without the secrets. It’s like they’ve always been here.”

“You’re right,” Elsa acknowledged, squeezing Anna’s hand gently. “This has been our burden to carry for as long as we can remember, and though time has passed, and we believe the physical threat is long behind us, old habits die hard.”

“Actually, in our case they don’t really seem to die at all,” Anna quipped. “You’re the first person we’ve ever told, and we can’t even seem to do that right. God, this is so hard. Why is this so hard?”

“Probably because there’s no easy way to say this,” Elsa admitted. Emma reached out for her hand in a show of comfort and Elsa looked up at her immediately. Emma wanted to assure her she was here to help, never to judge, and if they needed more time to make peace with their decision to share, that was fine too.

“Just tell me what you can. Start wherever you need to.”

Over the next hour, Emma patiently listened as they unfurled a truth that had been wrapped up tight for twenty years. They told her about their parents, two young Europeans who had met on foreign holiday. They were neither of them in their country of birth, and both eager to avoid the shackles of their real worlds, at least for a little while. Together they’d succeeded in doing this, and they had spent a week falling hopelessly in love with each other. From the way Elsa and Anna described it, Iduna and Agnar (yes, those were apparently their real names) had woven their strings together so tightly, the braid could not be broken.

The ‘problem’ stemmed from their father, for though he loved their mother endlessly, he had obligations – royal obligations. It turned out that Agnar was a Prince, of a nearby European principality that Emma had actually heard of. Arendelle was a small place, but it had undergone a revolution when she was a child, and even in the States there was endless conversation about it for a while. At first Emma was shocked, how was it possible that their Dad was a prince? But it took only a few moments for the surprise to dissipate. It explained why Elsa and Anna had always been so jumpy and yet very knowledgeable at multiple instances. It also explained why they were so hell-bent on keeping a secret, since the things Emma had heard about this country had hardly been positive.

According to Elsa and Anna, at the same time that Prince Agnar miraculously found love with their mother, his father, Runeard, had grown ill and passed away, leaving him as the heir apparent of the kingdom of Arendelle. Their father was eager for that role, and had been preparing for it all his life, until he was confronted with a truth that destroyed every plan he’d ever had. He could not remain the ruler of his country and pursue a life with the woman that he loved. He was bound as King to marry someone from a royal bloodline, and so he’d made a choice, to relinquish his crown and to hand it over to his younger brother. Their Uncle was a good man, and so they believed he would be a good King, but after a peaceful transition of power, and ten years of quiet where Elsa and Anna’s parents married, had children, and made a quiet country life for them all, something happened. Their Uncle had begun trusting the wrong people, and a coup had taken place. The palace was overrun, the royal family was imprisoned, and the country was thrust into darkness.

In the thick of that fighting, Elsa and Anna’s parents had also been targeted. They knew it was coming, as no coup could allow for anyone of the royal bloodline to live, but they didn’t have the time to all get out safely. Instead, their parents stayed behind as Elsa and Anna were taken with their father’s one-time nanny. She had lived with them all their lives, caring for them as if she were their own relation, and she brought them to France, through untraceable means, to the only other living relative they had left. Technically the older woman who became their lifeline was their father’s Aunt, but to them, she was forever Grandmere.

“It was a few weeks with Grandmere before we had confirmation that mother and father were gone,” Elsa said, sadness, even all these years, later taking hold of her quivering voice. Emma ached for her friend, and she couldn’t comprehend that kind of loss. She had never had parents at all, and that had been so painful in so many ways, but in some respects this was an even worse fate. “They were strong, and they protected us until the very end, but some battles simply can’t be won. Some heartbreaks cannot be avoided.”

“I’m so sorry, for both of you,” Emma said softly. “I cannot imagine the pain at knowing your parents and their goodness and then losing it like that.”

“It was difficult,” Anna agreed, “Especially being in a new country and having to hide who we were and basically stay at Grandmere’s estate all the time. But even when they passed, our parents were never truly gone. They’ve always been with us. Their love lives on in us, right Elsa?”

“Right,” Elsa agreed, offering a smile to her sister. “We stayed in France with Grandmere for years, and even though we were hurting, it was still a happy time. Grandmere adored us and spoiled us like any grandmother should. She gave us all the love and attention a person could stand, but she also took her role as our protector very seriously. As Anna said, we never really left the manor. It was a great estate, but for all intents and purposes we were under house arrest for years. We had private tutors for our schooling and no nanny except for Grandmere. The household staff were either sworn to secrecy or told an unassuming story about how we were two distant cousins who had fallen on hard times. The core of the story was true, of course. We had been orphaned through a series of tragic circumstances, but everything else was an illusion, including our names.”

Emma’s look of surprise had Anna clarifying quickly. “Our full names are Elisandra and Annadella, but our parents always called us Elsa and Anna. Those other names were family heirlooms, but these names were our truth. That’s what Mama used to say. Still those nicknames were a luxury we couldn’t afford when at our Grandmere’s. So we chose new ones. Selene for Elsa, and Soleil for me.”

“Totally different,” Emma said casually.

“They were,” Elsa agreed, “But they kept an important part of our story intact. My father called me his ‘little Luna’ since the night I was born, under a full blue moon. An ice-solstice, as it’s referred to in Arendellian tradition. It’s supposedly a sign of great fortune for babies born to be born on those rare nights. Meanwhile Anna was born at high noon on the sunniest, most beautiful day of the year. The kind of day that was a gift, as Papa would say. From that day forward, Anna became his ‘sunshine.”

“So let me guess, Selene means moon and Soliel means sun.”

“Yes. It was hard to get used to, but Grandmere helped us every step of the way. She was devoted to us completely, and in truth, I think she loved us as much as any mother could. She had no children of her own, but she had us, and thank God we had her.”

“But you never went out, you never left your home?”

“Not for a long time. Eventually we were allowed small indulgences. We went to Grandmere’s house in Paris every Christmas season for the shopping and the sights. We visited her sister, Aunt Josephina, on the Spanish coast in August, when the weather was hottest and the beach was pure bliss,” Anna acquiesced. “But we never went to school or sports or that kind of thing. All we really had was each other, until I made a dear friend in our next-door neighbor, Aurora. She didn’t know the truth about our past, but Grandmere fully trusted her parents. They were diplomats, and always had ample security. A few summers I was allowed to go for a week or two to their summer home. Elsa was always invited, but she preferred the quiet for a change, deciding to get lost in her reading instead of adventuring with me.”

Emma noticed that Elsa flinched slightly at the words, but it escaped Anna’s notice. Emma looked at her curiously, wondering if Elsa would comment on the claim, but when no words came from Elsa, she decided to ask some more directed questions. Emma wondered about what had happened to Arendelle and how they came to be in Montenarro. Arendelle, luckily, was much recovered from the tumult of the past. The heinous coup had been righted by the people, and a new democratic government instilled. Unfortunately, their Uncle had not made it through that dark time unscathed. He grew very ill while in confinement and died some years later. The country was now transitioning to a fully democratic state, but there was, at least reportedly, great respect amongst the public for the royals that were. Their parents and Uncle were highly regarded, with a memorial service each year held in honor of their bravery and dedication to the country. Whispers about whatever happened to Elsa and Anna, or if they had even existed remained, but it had been a long time since any real attention was paid to their fates.

Despite those changing tides, Elsa and Anna’s grandmother had always been hesitant in exposing the truth. She believed it wise not to open the door to a grand reveal. Why tempt fate when they could instead pursue, simpler, less complicated lives? Elsa and Anna had waivered at first, but ultimately decided that the best way to honor their parents was to do as they’d instructed – share their love and their abilities to make the lives of people who needed it better. Their personal experiences sparked their interest in working with orphaned children, and they both went to school to study in Paris, staying at their Grandmere’s home all the while. It was only after the unexpected death of their dear Grandmere that they’d decided on a change. The jobs here in Montenarro had been discovered, and the rest was history. Anna and Elsa had chosen their simple, balanced life, and they’d been keeping the secret all the while.

“So, I guess keeping the truth from the rest of the world now is less about any danger to your life, and more about your privacy. I can only imagine how it would go – the press discovering two long lost princesses who lived through that kind of turmoil. It would be…” Emma trailed off and Anna filled in.

“A nightmare.”

Now there was no denying the reaction from Elsa, and in truth, it looked like her friend had been struck by something. She was suddenly pale, and clearly agitated, and Emma suspected it was all to do with a certain King who’d paid her extra mind upon his visit to the Center yesterday.

“Elsa, are you all right?” Anna asked, pulling Elsa in from her own wandering thoughts. Still she looked almost haunted, and was unable to convince either Anna or Emma that she was well.

“I’m fine,” she said, but the whispered words were hardly reaffirming.

“You are definitely not fine. Elsa, you’re white as a sheet.”

“I’m always pale, you know that,” Elsa tried to joke but it was a pitiful attempt at humor.

“Elsa, seriously. What’s wrong?” Anna asked, looking, for the first time all day, actually afraid. That distress in her sister’s eyes prompted Elsa to hug Anna fiercely, and admit an unexpected truth for both Anna and Emma.

“I have to tell you something. Something I never told you.”

“Okay,” Anna agreed quickly, with nothing like anger in her expression. “You know you can tell me anything. Anything at all.”

This time the revelations shared were questioned mostly by Anna, though Emma had questions as well. Who wouldn’t, given the surprise twist in an already surprising tale?

It turned out that in one of those times where Anna was traveling with her friend, Elsa had gone with their Grandmere back to Paris. One afternoon they received an invitation from their grandmother’s oldest friend for a garden party. With Elsa now 16, it was their grandmother’s belief that she was ready for such an event. Elsa promised to keep to her story and mind her manners, but when she arrived, she was so nervous about doing or saying the wrong thing that she wandered off, away from the party all together. Deep within the hedgerow she’d met a young man who was also hiding. The bond of shared discomfort and an instant attraction made for a magical day where young love had a chance to bloom. At the time Elsa knew him only as Liam, and while she had planned to ask her Grandmere for more information on him, the old woman was in a state of panic when they finally reunited. It turned out more people were there than she ever realized, including some who could have discovered the secret. Elsa saw how much relief her Grandmere felt when she fibbed and said she’d been alone out in the gardens, she hadn’t the heart to tell her the truth. The lie was typical, especially for a teenager, but it was clear it still ate away at Elsa.

“I felt awful keeping it from her. I kept trying to get up the courage to confess, but then you came home early after Aurora broke her ankle on her horse, and the summer ended, and nothing ever came of it,” Elsa said, looking to Anna. “Eventually I came to believe that even if he seemed remarkable to me, he was just a boy. Our secret was still safe, and I had had my day in the sun.”

“So you didn’t realize who he was?” Emma asked and Elsa shook her head.

“It never came up,” Elsa asserted. “He only referred to himself as Liam. He told me he was seventeen and that his mother knew our hostess and that was it. I didn’t ask questions. Well, not about those kinds of things. We talked for hours, about everything and nothing. I didn’t have the time for basic details.”

The feeling was familiar to Emma. When she first met Killian, she felt the same way. They were so busy connecting with each other, so busy feeling the spark between them, that the words almost seemed to matter less. Knowing that Elsa had experienced that explained every part of her reaction yesterday, from the barely veiled interest to the severe trepidation every time she was within touching distance of the King.

“But when did you know the truth of who he was, Elsa? Please, please tell me it wasn’t just yesterday,” Anna begged, surprising both Elsa and Emma with her acceptance of the story and genuine want for Elsa to not have been blind-sided.

“It wasn’t,” Elsa admitted. “I found out when we first came to interview here. I saw a picture in the paper and I knew. I should have told you then, Anna, I know I should have, but we both felt it, our calling to this place. I swear it was like Mama and Papa brought us here. There were all those signs, and that feeling we just hadn’t had since we were kids. I thought that if I shared the truth we’d have to leave, and I couldn’t do that, to you or to me.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t,” Emma admitted. “Perhaps that makes me selfish, but I know for a fact how much staying has meant not just for me but for the kids. This place is like one big family, and it’s thanks to you two. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“I comforted myself with that thought for years. We were making a difference, we were using the magic Mama taught me about. But that doesn’t mean what I did was right. I shouldn’t have kept it from Anna, and now we may have no choice but to run.”

“No choice but to run?” Anna parroted, astounded at the idea. “Elsa, what are you talking about? We are not running. You are definitely not running!”

“We’re not?”

“Absolutely not. And you know why? Because this is love, Elsa. If yesterday is anything to go off of, and if your day together years ago was even half as romantic as you described, it’s full blown, love at first sight, once in a lifetime stuff. And you want to talk about signs? How about the fact that we could have landed anywhere in the world for work – we had no limits and no plan – and we ended up here, in the same place where Liam is King. The chances were so slim, I know that was Mama and Papa’s doing.”

Tears had spilled onto Elsa’s cheeks at Anna’s declaration, but it didn’t stop Anna from continuing on, even though her own eyes were misting over with the emotion of it all. “Our parents would never ever want you to run from love, Elsa, and neither do I. You deserve it, and here it is, back again after years of being parted. You’ve never really connected with anyone else, and I thought it was just a matter of waiting for the right man to come along, but now I know you were waiting for him again.”

“But it’s hopeless, Anna. He is the King.”

“So? You’re a princess.”

“A princess in hiding. A princess who’s story belongs squarely in the past. I can’t ask him to keep the secret, but I also can’t keep it from him. I’m caught up in this web I can’t get out of, and Liam is too honorable. He would never deceive his people like that. I wouldn’t ever ask him to.”

“So we let the secret go,” Anna said adamantly. “It’s simple Elsa. We just tell the truth.”

“You don’t mean that,” Elsa replied earnestly.

“I do.”

“You just said it would be a nightmare.”

“That was before I realized our alternative, and believe me, Elsa, there is no question of which is worse. If giving up obscurity and facing the press is what it takes to get you your love, it will be the easiest decision I ever make.”

“That’s assuming he even wants me,” Elsa said prompting Emma to chime in.

“Oh, he wants you. Believe me, and if you don’t believe me, then believe Killian. He talked about it most of the night, and he knows his brother better than anyone.”

“Maybe he wants me, but he doesn’t know everything, and I have no idea how he’ll take it.”

“Well there’s only one way to find out,” Anna said, standing up and pulling Elsa with her. “You have to tell him.”

“Now?” Elsa squawked, looking at Emma for help and Emma intervened.

“Let me call, Killian. He’s at the palace today. He can help us figure out a time.” No sooner had she said the words than her fingers were making the call. It rang only twice before the sexiest voice she knew picked up.

“Miss me already, Swan?”

“Something like that. Listen, I’m here with Elsa and Anna and I think it would be good if Elsa and Liam talked.”

Emma heard murmuring and then something that sounded like the phone banging on a table. She flinched from the sound, but then heard Killian once more. “Sorry, love. Suffice it to say my brother is enthused by the prospect.”

“When?” Emma asked, and she heard a resounding ‘Now!’ from the background. It was Liam’s voice and it prompted a smile for Emma. Elsa and Anna looked at her curiously as Killian responded.

“The sooner the better it seems.”

“Okay, so in an hour then?”

“Aye.” Again there was fussing on the other line, and it sounded like someone was pacing, until Killian spoke once more. “Might I suggest my place, so they may have some privacy.”

“Perfect,” Emma agreed. “She’ll be there.”

“Brilliant,” Killian quipped, “And Emma?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured, hanging up and putting her phone away in her pocket.

“And?” Anna asked.

“He wants to meet at Killian’s in an hour.”

“So soon?!” Elsa asked and Emma laughed.

“By the sounds of thing, an hour may as well be an eternity in Liam’s eyes.”

“He’s not the only one,” Anna agreed drawing Emma and Elsa’s gazes immediately. “What? Oh, come on, Emma, like you aren’t totally excited to see what happens. The suspense is practically killing me.”

“It may actually kill me,” Elsa said, putting her hand to her heart.

“It’s going to be all right,” Emma insisted, prompting Elsa to look up at her with hopeful but still skeptical eyes. “Don’t ask me how I know, but I do. I can just tell.”

“See!” Anna said excitedly. “And you know Emma’s gut is legendary. She can sense these things.”

“She didn’t sense Killian was a prince,” Elsa replied, not in a mean way, but as a frantic response from someone currently dealing with a lot.

“Touché,” Emma said with a laugh. “But I did know he was it for me. So, let me put it this way: I don’t know exactly how it will happen, but I do know you and Liam are going to work things out. Is that better?”

“Only if you really mean it,” Elsa whispered.

“I do,” Emma said softly.

“Ok,” Elsa agreed after a moment’s pause, straightening her spine in a show of determination. “Ok, I’ll do it.”

And with that the three of them set out to help Elsa get ready, knowing today would be a turning point, and that soon a much-needed conversation would lay it all out there once and for all.

Post-Note: Not going to lie, this chapter took SO long to craft, partially because of my muse being fussy, but mostly because, in the end, I needed two chapters to do this whole bit justice. I know I am leaving you on a bit of a cliff hanger, but I promise that next chapter we get the entirety of the Elsa/Liam story, and some added CS scenes to boot. Anyway, I really do hope that you enjoyed this chapter, and that it brightened your day, even if there were parts that were a bit sad. I love seeing what you all think, and knowing so many of you have enjoyed reading so far. I am still pretty busy with other things at the moment, but I promise to do my best to get an update written soon. Hope to see you next time, until then, hoping you are safe, healthy, and well!

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 4 years

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TITLE: On the Precipice

A/N: I just had to write Ichabod’s POV during that scene in s1e13 ‘Bad Blood.’

She'd called him by name. Not ‘Crane’ or the myriad of other nicknames and teasing monikers she'd dubbed him with since they'd met, but ‘Ichabod.’ She’d said his name before, introducing him to others, teasing him about the number of potential offspring he had in his lineage, but it’d never sounded like this.

He felt it in every fiber of his being. He saw now the effectiveness of his own trickery, how not long ago he'd allowed himself to beg her—Abbie—to let him self-sacrifice to protect the world, before the Sin Eater had entered the room. It was only then, with the declarative use of her Christian name, that she'd quieted, adhered to his pleadings, and agreed to his suicidal plan. And he quietly hated himself for it if she'd felt anything like he did at this moment. Yet here they stood again, on another precipice, attempting to avert the impending apocalypse, but this time she was choosing to jump—and he abhorred it. He felt ripped into three: wanting to return—with her—to a world he didn't realize he missed, needing to save his wife as fidelity dictated and he'd sworn he'd do, and desperate to protect Abbie beyond all reason. And now this. His name on her lips shaking the foundations of his soul.

His eyes flashed between the women standing beside him. Both were flawed—the human condition saw to it that they all were—but of the two, some dark corner of his brain taunted, Katrina deserved purgatory in a way Abbie did not. For Katrina had chosen witchcraft, the occult, and an alliance with dark forces, not to mention lying to him since their initial meeting two centuries ago, as a way of life. (Since learning of her devotion to the dark arts, he'd often wondered if she'd used her witchcraft on him, finagled her way into his life because of his role as a Witness, perhaps cast a spell to wile her way into his affections, if it’d ever truly been him who'd fallen in love with her so long ago.) Abbie, on the other hand, had been tortured and hunted by evil as a young child, traumatized by the events and happenings all around her, and had still chosen to fight them head-on her entire life. As she was choosing now. Despite her choice fulfilling evil’s prophecy and in spite of his promise that he’d never turn her over to this hellscape and its master, she demanded he let her do this. Her words said she wanted to face Moloch, that she'd stay behind while he went back to save himself, humanity, the world. That she didn't want to run anymore. That it wasn't his choice.

How grateful he was for that, coward that he was. He didn’t wish to make the choice placed before them, for in it lay betrayal. He’d either disavow the woman he’d once pledged his life to, the only one who knew and understood the life from whence he’d came—the only hold he had to a past he knew, a life he’d built, a time that made sense to him—or the one he’d come to love without pretense, who’d rescued him, claimed fealty to him, honored her word, promised to fight alongside him, regardless of any consequence. She was selfless and brave and good, this diminutive woman who'd somehow come to mean more to him than he'd ever let on. And while he believed she believed her words, he knew what it cost her to speak them, with every molecule fighting against that choice, even as she put on a brave face. Knew, too, she did this for him and Katrina because regardless of the way he felt about his Lieutenant, his words and actions of late had focused solely on the rescue of his wife.

He’d acted a fool, and a blind one to boot, he saw that now. Rescuing Katrina, for all that he hated the idea of her sufferings here, was for him. (And had she suffered? he’d wondered as he’d traipsed through this maze of hell. After two and half centuries, she’d not become one of the numerous monsters he’d witnessed outside. Still had her wits about her, could summon him or Abbie at her whim or call on them in dreams, daily visit a church—a church?! The irony blasted through him at the realization of such a sacred place here, where all others had diminished.—and light a candle for their son, the one she’d never told him about. Suffering seemed relative here, and she appeared no worse the wear for it.) Her secrets, her privilege in this place, they remained a mystery to him.

And all the while, he’d gripped tightly to the vestiges of the Before, when he knew what the world held (or at least thought he had), believed he and Katrina would make a life, a home, a family together after the war. Heavens, look at how he clung to his centuries’ old style, never truly accepting that he’d awoken in an era he couldn’t have imagined in his wildest daydreams. A fool through and through, he realized now, seeing these two women, each of whom played a part in the cleaved eras of his life, stand before him.

In all honesty, though he desired to free Katrina from purgatory, he felt much more beholden to the idealized version of her he'd had before realizing her alliance with the occult and more compelled by the honor-bound responsibility he had as her husband to protect and honor her. Even if that meant rescuing her from her own mistakes.

He stood between the two women: his past and his future.

His future. The thought nearly gutted him. He loved them both, vastly different, confusingly mired, devastatingly torn. One a first love from a time which he belonged to no longer, the other a love that spurred him on with her constant presence and a scorching bond even the fates had deemed impenetrable.

How could he choose anything but himself to leave behind? Then suddenly, without his permission or askance, they made the choice for him, leaving him reeling. Dear God, not Abbie… "You will come back for me. That I know," she claimed, strong as ever, fierce as a lioness. One hundred percent believing in him, even as he failed her with his acceptance of this choice they’d made. Stupid woman. Stupid to have trusted him, to have placed such faith and fealty in an old relic long past his prime. Stupidly brave as she held her composure, lying to his face. As he'd done to her all this time. He couldn't bear the thought of her in this place, of Moloch having unrestrained access to her and her mind, to the horrors she'd face alone. The monster had tracked her for years, biding his time, waiting to slaughter her. She wouldn’t receive the graces Katrina did, likely wouldn’t escape unscathed.

And wouldn’t remain here one second longer than necessary for Katrina to stop War. He swore it on his own life. He saw Katrina watching their exchange out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t muster a thought to her sensibilities at this moment. He drew Abbie into his arms, closing his eyes against the roiling emotions threatening his insides. He cupped her head, holding her against him, praying beyond all reason that she'd hold on long enough for them to stop the second horseman and return for her. "Remember our bond," he implored, hoping to bolster her even the slightest bit. Their connection had saved them thus far; he prayed the tether, if by his sheer will and dedication to her alone, would keep her safe. She trembled in his arms, and his heart shattered within his chest. "I'll come back for you," he whispered the promise. She withdrew, and he gripped her arms, imbuing his touch, his expression, his words with all the strength and hope he could deliver to her. "Faith," he fiercely entreated.

Abbie nodded, and then the monster growled at the window, she demanded he go, and he listened—just as he’d promised her—looking back once, twice, before something thrust him out of the same realm as her and she vanished from his sight, leaving his heart broken and bereft.

#you will NEVER convince me he didn't already love her with everything he had by this point #NEVER #ichabbie #ichabbie fanfiction #ichabbie fanfic #ichabbie fan fiction #ichabbie fan fic #abbie x crane #crane x abbie #abbie x ichabod #ichabod x abbie #sleep hollow fanfiction #sleepy hollow fanfic #sleepy hollow fan fiction #sleepy hollow fan fic #sleepy hollow #my ichabbie writing #my writing #personal

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kathyprior4200 · 3 years

Text

Heavenly Boss Episode Four: D.I.A.B.L.O.

“Welcome the wackiest episode of the season! When Elves and Diablos clash over the fates of a fallen cherub trio, things sure do happen.”

Oh, hello. Docile here, welcome back to Heaven! I know things were a bit wild and confusing last time. Let me try and explain a bit.

Apparently the first Heaven’s blessing company C.H.E.R.U.B. had been under the guidance of one of my previous bosses, Kiva. I don’t know why anyone would approve of her, other than she’s famous for her singing in both Heavens. Instead of spreading faith and love, she wanted more fame and a chance to create her own world on Earth. She briefly used the cherubs’ powers to revive certain people on Earth and kill off others deemed “unworthy” in God’s eyes. There is a good reason why no one should bring back the dead. Even C.H.E.R.U.B. and my company E.L.F. know that would only cause overpopulation, war, and an alteration of history. It broke my heart when we had to reverse the damage Kiva had done. In the process, we freed C.H.E.R.U.B. from Kiva’s influence, Tirred from her influence and sent the dead back to the other side. We also had to erase the memories of the event from the mortals for obvious reasons. Thankfully, Deerie just straight up banished Kiva and her group…I heard they got arrested on Earth, but I have a feeling they may come back.

Tirred’s been experiencing a few struggles with getting over the event. He had given into his desire for more status and like many angels in Heaven, he tends to see demons as “lesser than.” He’s being monitored under supervision for a bit just in case, but I think he can fix up his attitude…mostly.

Recently, I got an update on how C.H.E.R.U.B. is doing. They had failed to save the life of a greedy inventor and were banished to Earth. I have a bad feeling that they’ll get corrupted in Hell and return for revenge against their I.M.P. rivals. I’m all for keeping I.M.P. in line to try and stop their horrible mass murders, but fighting fire with fire usually doesn’t end well. Although I think that indigo sheep, Collin, has the purest heart of the three.

So far, we’ve been doing business in Heaven as usual: record keeping on human life, plus spreading God’s words of good faith (and trying to leave out the bad messages of “ditch your loser friends who you can’t use.”) There’s a difference between leading cooperatively and leading selfishly. True leadership requires lifting others up as well as yourself. I guess our Heavenly Father doesn’t trust anyone else due to Lucifer trying to take His throne all those centuries ago. Paperwork is always tedious but it must be done. I know our business tithers between legal and illegal but we’ll deal with any consequences that may arise. My job is my passion and my employees are like my family.

Right now, my team and I are discussing some ways to meet and collaborate with C.H.E.R.U.B. I think they need some guidance on properly interacting with humans. Plus, I think Sunna and I are tempted to give those cute cherubs some hugs. Truthfully, I hope we can get to them before they “sink further down,” if you catch my drift. Ideally, C.H.E.R.U.B. could stay on Earth and continue protecting humanity. Or we could provide them sanctuary in our Heaven. The first option seems more likely due to both Deerie’s rules and interdimensional complications. It’s very rare for an individual to travel to the parallel universes…and Earth is in the middle of all the Heavens and Hells!

But hey, surely it’s worth a try, right?

Sunna was peacefully sleeping on one of the chairs around the smooth table at E.L.F. headquarters. The elves were seated in their spots with Docile at the head of the table.

“Alright guys,” he said. “This is a very important mission. With Lord Gabriel’s help, I’ve pinpointed C.H.E.R.U.B.’s location to be in a forest near a lake, not too far from that inventor’s old mansion.” He pointed to certain spots on a holographic map in front of them. “It appears they briefly stayed in a church for sanctuary last December and are now trying to stay low. Gabriel said they had been helping other humans in secret but haven’t gotten rid of their desires for acknowledgement, praise and material gains.”

“Hold up,” said Tirred with his usual yawn. “I thought that C.H.E.R.U.B. never asks for any fees.”

“That is true, but I’m talking about what they seek. The three cherubs were raised in a culture that values perfection, reward and the pursuit of happiness…”

Tirred coughed, “Americans,” which earned him a glare from his boss.

Docile continued, “Even Heaven’s citizens have flaws of their own. Selfishness exists in everyone, no matter how altruistic they try to be. C.H.E.R.U.B. knows that if they spread love, they can also feel good about themselves. But they always expect something in return for their work. Money, praise, God’s grace, whatever it is. The point is, they never help others just for the sake of doing so.”

“That actually makes sense,” Timmid added, brushing back her short white hair. “I wonder if they were so quick to collaborate with us because they just wanted us to promote their company.”

“Which is what we’re randomly doing instead of, you know…worrying about ourselves in our reality!" Tirred added, waving his hands for emphasis. “We shouldn’t have to care about some other cheesy company.”

Sunna happily mumbled “cheese” in her sleep.

“You have a good point Tirred, but this is different,” Docile elaborated. “C.H.E.R.U.B. may be from another realm, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t at least try to help them out. Remember that we help humans and angels alike when we can.”

“We can’t help everybody,” Tirred said. “Especially those humans and demons who…”

“We’re not talking about them,” Docile added, holding up a hand. “There’s no need to be a downer when I’m trying to spread light onto a dire situation here, okay?”

Tirred crossed his arms. “I’m helping you see the reality of things. The other angelic orders won’t approve of this. Especially since traveling to the parallel realms is forbidden!”

“And the reality is that we will continue on with this mission because it’s the right thing to do,” Docile argued, standing his ground. “It is our job to help those in need, no matter how bizarre the situation may be. So for your sake, I suggest you keep yourself in line.”

Tirred grumbled and backed away slightly. Docile sighed and straightened up.

“Plus, we aren’t traveling to the other Heaven. We’re going to Earth. That’s where C.H.E.R.U.B. is.” He glanced over at the large leather bound Bible that allowed them to travel to Earth. He didn’t know how much longer Azrael and Samuel would allow him to keep it, but hopefully a bit longer.

“Won’t we need disguises again?” Timmid asked. “Or Sunna?”

“I think we’ll be alright with going in our true forms,” said Docile. “But remember to lay low and stick together. After all, C.H.E.R.U.B. will be in their regular forms…might as well meet angel to angel.”

“Okay,” said Timmid.

There was a knock on the door, which startled Sunna awake. “Guys, do you hear that?”

“That was the door,” called Timmid.

Sunna walked over and opened it. “Hello,” she said as two men entered. One was short and fat, the other was tall and thin.

“Are those…supervillains?” asked Timmid.

“More like superheroes!” called the thin man. He had an elegant white mustache and white-gray skin. He wore a white top hat with a purple brim and old time glasses with purple lens. His suit was white with a large purple cross in the center, the arrow pointing up. His boots were purple and his cape was light blue.

The squat man beside him wore a white suit with thin blue lines on it with a beige collar. He wore a white bowler hat with a blue trim and white rimmed glasses with teal lens. His mustache was black and his skin was white-gray. Both men had halos and white wings.

“I’m Straight Nate!” greeted the thin man. “Craftsman of all things straight and narrow! This is my partner Kyle Kipton!”

“Nice to meet you both!” Docile said, shaking their hands. “How’d you get into Heaven?”

Nate explained. “I wasn’t always a young man. Kyle and I ran Kyle-Nate Tools, a local shop for farmers. Earlier today, we were giving food, eggs and farming equipment to the poor. We could’ve saved so many. We both got involved in our job and felt so much younger than before. It was marvelous! Turns out that Lyle Lipton’s anti-aging machine in his factory was sending out rays that turned us younger and younger by the day. Our customers soon grew suspicious when we suddenly appeared as children. Both of us were almost handed over to police. We raced toward Lyle’s place, hoping to get back to our normal ages. But before we could reach him, the mob had cornered us with torches and pitchforks. We refused to give them what they wanted and they…killed me. It was a miracle that Lyle’s machine secrets didn’t get out. Everyone believed the mobsters to be crazy. Thanks to some angel magic, no one else sought to be young again.”

“I died shortly after Nate,” said Kyle. “Almost thought about taking my life, but Covid 19 did that for me.”

“Sorry,” said Sunna.

“Brother bucking Covid ruins everything!” Docile spat.

“Wait,” Tirred asked. “If you turned into children, why do you look so…”

“Wise?” Kyle finished with a shrug. “Who knows? Age doesn’t matter for saints up here. We stay the same age as when we died on Earth like the sinners do in Hell.”

“Well that story was a load of rubbish,” Tirred scoffed.

“Don’t be rude,” Sunna chided.

“It’s alright,” Nate said. “Kyle and I are trying to figure out what do to next now that we’re in Heaven. I wonder if there are any farms around that could use our help.”

“I’ve never heard of farms in the sky before,” Kyle said.

“Well Heaven has a whole society like Hell does, so schools, farms, houses, pretty much anything from all time periods exist here,” said Docile.

“Have you heard of the Canadians?” asked Sunna. “They are anti-cannibals, against eating meat in all forms. A bunch of French-speaking vegetarian cultured folk. A bit eccentric. They make the best maple syrup and host the best air hockey games. You know, literally in the air…”

Nate rolled his eyes. “People are so quick to judge these days.”

On a nearby television screen, a commercial showed a dark teal skinned elf wearing a black outfit and a black hat, twirling a cane. “Are you looking for work to make solemn stories and formal films? Well call me at Sully Sirius’ Serious Idea Studios, where you can create art and get rich! The one who makes the best creation will receive two free tickets for Woo-Hoo Land! But still…I have standards for heaven’s sake!” A brief clip showed Sully selling holy water bottles at the theme park.

“Wierdo,” muttered Kyle.

“Well, I wish you two the best of luck up here,” said Docile. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Anytime,” said Nate. Nate and Kyle waved goodbye before exiting out the door.

Docile turned to a winged cherub deer.

“You think we’ll succeed in our mission?”

“Yeah, oh yes, yes, yes!” Doe-Doe trilled genuinely, typing notes on an IPad while wearing yellow overalls. “Go beyond the rules and you do you! Yeah!”

0 0 0

Docile, Tirred and Timmid stood outside in front of their headquarters building, the heavenly sky shining down above them. The white building and the golden wing designs attached to it shone brightly in the light. Tirred briefly glanced enviously beyond a wrought iron golden gate toward the direction of the silver Holy City surrounded by glowing halos. Timmid took a deep breath and flipped through the Bible until coming across a passage to create a portal to Earth. After she chanted and drew a teal blue sigil with chalk, a gap opened up. A fearful Timmid led the way through, while Docile and Tirred followed.

The trio arrived at the vast meadow surrounded by forest trees and the shining lake. The sun shone brightly in the sky while a few white clouds dotted the horizon. Several birds chirped on nearby hanging branches, while brown squirrels and rabbits hopped along the grassy plain.

Docile sniffed the air deeply and sighed. “Nature truly is a wonderful thing. There’s something so genuine about Earth that makes it so…vast and beautiful.”

Tirred rolled his eyes. “Heaven will always be the superior place. It has marvelous light, gold, angels and the Almighty of course.”

“But the living world is unique in its own way. It’s the birthplace of all the saints and sinners. They make up the majority of the afterlife. Without this place, Heaven and Hell alike wouldn’t function the way they do now. No technology, no flare, no diversity. Our current worlds today are what some mortals call a “melting pot.” Different ingredients tossed together into one societal dish.”

“Blast, boss! Enough with your metaphorical mumbo-jumbo,” Tirred sighed, briefly tugging his pointed ears in frustration. “Do you even realize what could happen if we meet with other beings too long? Reality itself…”

He imitated an explosion.

Timmid laughed a bit. “Who’s spewing mumbo-jumbo now?” She playfully elbowed Tirred. “Relax, Tir. Docile knows what he’s doing. It’s risky but it’s for the greater good.”

“Greater good, my ass,” he muttered.

“If you wanna get your good ass kicked, then be my guest,” Timmid wiggled her eyebrows playfully as Tirred turned red in the face.

Docile summoned his golden staff and slowly moved it in the air in front of him. The staff tip briefly glowed when he aimed it at a lower part of the hill. He spotted something small and white flying in the same direction. Docile mentioned for his coworkers to follow. They headed down the hill until they arrived at a white park bench. There were some passerby walking their dogs or chatting on their cell phones. Several women pushed strollers around, while a child tossed bread crumbs for the ducks. The paths were lined with streetlamps and red rose bushes.

Just then, Docile spotted a flying boy and two winged sheep sitting close together on a bench. No one seemed to pay them any mind.

“Bingo!” Docile grinned.

The periwinkle sheep Collin sat and examined the park. The yellow sheep Keenie straightened up her yellow dress and red bow. Cletus sat in the middle in his reddish overalls, looking bored. Several white feathers fell off their wings and their halos flickered.

“I don’t understand,” Cletus said dejectedly. “We’ve done all we can to make amends. We’ve saved people, gave them advice, and lived among the humans. Why can’t we go back?”

Collin sniffed as tears started to trickle down his face. “Why can’t Deerie let us back? We were doing so well in Heaven. Our clients and the humans were always grateful for the work we did.”

Keenie stamped one of her hooves. “It’s so not fair! Deerie didn’t even give us a chance. She just sent us here to suffer and rubbed it in our faces!”

“If only that filthy imp leader didn’t blind me during the battle,” Cletus scowled. “Killing Lyle was just an accident. I was this close to eliminating them on the spot!”

“Killing is a bad thing,” Collin mentioned, straightening up. “Our job is never to kill, but to save and spread love!”

“Like I said before Collin, you still joined us in shooting at our rivals,” said Cletus. “Eliminating the threat is sometimes necessary.”

“We also have Exorcists for a reason,” Keenie added. “To eliminate all those shitty sinners and keep both Earth and Heaven safe from them. Those Hell table scraps are just as bad as them, if not worse!”

“W-w-whatever happened to ‘thou shalt not kill?’ ’Love thy neighbor?’” Collin asked, flying up and staring hard at his companions.

The cherubs hovered in the air.

“Those demons aren’t our neighbors,” Cletus told Collin.

“I know that, but still, we could’ve at least taken the fight outside the opera theater! Oh and maybe saved that singer, too.”

“When the imps were in the way, right there?” Keenie asked. “We had to watch over Lyle, too.”

“We had to save his life at any cost,” Cletus said, leaning in.

“B-b-but we didn’t, didn’t we?” Collin finished. “We all played a part in our fate and now in a few days, we’ll be down below facing our worst nightmares!”

Collin broke down into hysterical sobs, as Keenie wrapped him in a hug. “Oh Collin…”

The cherubs flew off toward the open meadow, leaving the park behind and looking around.

Just then, E.L.F. made their entrance in front of them, floating down gracefully on white wings in their own beams of sparkly light. Docile was in the center, Tirred to his right, Timmid to his left. Spiked white halos hung over their heads. C.H.E.R.U.B. stared quizzically at them.

Keenie glared. “Go away, demons! We’re tired of seeing you in your silly costumes!”

“You here to m-m-mock us some more?” Collin asked in anger.

“We come in peace…” Docile began, but didn’t finish. Cletus let out a combination of mournful cries and yells to the sky, causing the nearby humans to glare at them and scatter away.

“You won’t get away with this, I.M.P.! You’ll pay for what you did to us and the humans you slaughtered!”

Cletus finished his cries when a sudden force knocked everyone backwards. They straightened themselves up in the air. The ground broke apart and a column of red, orange and yellow flames shoot up from the opening.

E.L.F. and C.H.E.R.U.B. looked in wide-eyed terror at three small shadowy figures hovering forward through the flames. Three shadows with glowing yellow eyes.

“You seek revenge and are thirsty for blood?” came a low choir of voices.

The flames vanished, revealing a demonic trio. A pointed tail, sharp yellow teeth, a clawed hand holding a black Satanic book...

“We can help satiate your desires…”

The leader appeared, looking like a twisted version of Cletus. He had teal fluffy hair and pale white skin, his teeth sharp and yellow. His eyes were large and yellow with white sclera. He was chubby like Cletus but instead of angelic wings, he had small black bat wings with long red fingers within the flaps. He wore a dark blue undershirt, a black shirt collar and teal colored overalls, plus brown boots. Two reddish orange horns curved down to meet his chin. He put away his black Satanic book.

The corrupted Collin counterpart took the appearance of a bulky anthropomorphic yellow ram. His furry hooves were tan colored with sickly yellowish tips. He wore a wine colored red suit with a black bow tie under his thick neck. His undershirt was orange with an upside down black cross in the center. Sheathed under a black belt was a gun, a dagger and a few other weapons. His teeth, eyes and face were all a dull yellow, although a few black dots rested under his left eye. Ogre-like ears stuck out around his head of thick black wool. Protruding in curves from his head were two thick crimson-colored ram horns with little lines running down the surface. Little black wings held him in the air.

The last diablo was a blue anthropomorphic ram and Keenie’s dark counterpart. Her hooves were purple with dark green tips. Her dress was dark blue with a green bow around it. Her dress moved from blue to various shades of green and teal, becoming lighter at the ends. The hem of her dress was torn and gave the appearance of blue flames as part of the design. Black gloves covered her hands like an executioner’s. She grinned with yellow sharp teeth against a dark blue face. Her eyes had dark orange pupils, teal irises and white sclera. Her wild hair was a lighter shade of blue, moving like flames in the wind. Like her companions, she had black bat wings and curved red-orange ram horns. All the diablos could also grow pointed tails and retract them.

The leader sneered. “Surely you’ve heard of us. You saw our commercial, didn’t you?”

“What commercial?” Docile asked.

0 0 0

A large Leviathan monster opened its mouth wide, revealing sharp teeth, a long slimy tongue and a dark throat. The camera zoomed into the darkness before a red light appeared at the end of the tunnel. A bleak world with a red sky was revealed. A futuristic city in the distance was tall, black and metal: Sin City. The ground was black as was the grass. There was a pandemonium capital building not too far away along with a variety of shops set in a dystopian world: Tiamat’s Treasure Things, Kali’s Corner, Xenomorph Labs.

No Hazbin Hotel or I.M.P headquarters to be found.

A sign read “Diablo Den” and pointed down. The camera moved to show an underground tunnel with torches on either side. An entire subculture of demons lived down within the sewers and damp tunnels. Metal waterproof houses were situated under fluorescent lights on the ceiling. The leader popped up on the screen.

“Salutations! I’m Erebos! Welcome to Hell! Guess you must have done something evil to get here, and evil people deserve to give enemies special cruses!”

The jingle began, with organs playing.

“Does it make you want to yell?” asked Devvin, the yellow ram as a man was shown getting a promotion over a man dressed in rags.

“When an enemy ends up well?” asked Dammna the blue ram female as a rapist was pardoned from his crime.

“Do you frown from ear to ear?” sang Erebos as a man shot at several anti-LGBTQ protestors.

“When your rivals don’t shed a tear?” they all sang as a bully in a baseball cap laughed as a kid cowered in a corner.

“Locked up in a rut?” sang Devvin with a pose.

“A foe seeking your gut?” Dammna sang and posed.

“We can make them cold and dead!” sang Erebos.

“Even give you their head!” They all did villain poses.

“Cause here at D.I.A.B.L.O.!” they sang as “DIABLO” appeared in bloody letters surrounded by pitchforks and the trademark icon.

“We’re the masters of destruction from down below!” sang Devvin as Cletus shot fireballs at a barbed wire fence, allowing prisoners of war to escape. Devvin led the way as Dammna waved a flag with a pentagram and “B.U.R.E.H.C” on it.

“Cause here at D.I.A.B.L.O.!” they sang as the logo appeared again.

“Just name your price and we’re good to go!” sang Dammna as Erebos gave a greedy grin at a human handing him a bag of gold.

“Spreading sickness, chaos and hate!” Devvin sang as he and Dammna gave each other a high five with their hooves.

“History altered and fate!” sang Dammna as atomic bombs went off in reverse as clocks ran backwards and forwards.

“We do the dirty work for you!” sang Cletus as Devvin concocted a deadly virus and dropped it on coughing humans.

“And stirring up world wars, too!” added Devvin as Dammna whispered something in a soldier’s ear, resulting in two armies fighting on the field.

So sit right back…” sang Erebos before they all sang in discord, “…and let us curse a soul for you!”

“Oh, we are the D.I.A.B.L.O.!”

“How the primal chaos shall flow!”

0 0 0

C.H.E.R.U.B. and E.L.F. just stood there, stunned.

Just then, Blitzo, Moxxie and Millie entered through a portal onto the grass. Moxxie was trying not to fall, while Millie safely put away Stolas’ grimoire in a small black backpack.

“Alright gang,” called Blitzo. “Apparently someone wants us to kill that ginger-ass tour guide we saw last time. Looks like he’s at Lyle’s old house jacking off and snatching Lyle’s old possessions.”

Millie tried not to throw up. “This world is even crazier than ours!” Then she pulled out a dark sword and brightened. “Let’s keep on killin’ then!

“Sir, please don’t tell Lyle any of this,” Moxxie pleaded. “You know he’ll get mad if we fail this mission.”

“Oh I already sent him a text,” Blitzo grinned, holding up his phone. The text read “Off 2 kill tour intruder. Might want 2 sell ur stuff.” Moxxie face-palmed.

“I’m already tired and we haven’t even made it there yet,” Moxxie complained.

“Come on Mox, get your sweet imp ass moving,” Blitzo said. “We’ll be at his house before you can say…”

The three imps came to the clearing and froze in their tracks.

“Holy shit,” Blitzo breathed.

At that very moment, all twelve creatures divided in the four separate groups locked eyes with each other, some on the ground, and some in the air. The sky darkened to an abnormal shade of indigo, the ground suddenly warm to the touch. The air itself shifted from stale, to hot, to cold and back again. A strange energy crackled through the air, like any moment the earth would collapse underneath them. A stag with bloodstained antlers reared up his hind legs and raced across the forest as lightning flashed in the sky.

From inside the mansion, the tour guide and several people gazed out the window in awe through a telescope. The smiling man had the ginger bang over his eyes and wore a green suit and cap with dollar signs on it. He spoke too casually to the group as they took pictures on their phones.

“And now you’ll spot several groups of tacky super-powered cosplayers about to begin an apocalyptic battle! The feuds between famous people and ordinary folk is a sight to behold!”

0 0 0

“Who. The Fuck. Are They?!” Blitzo cried out, his voice echoing.

“Oh no!” groaned Moxxie, pointing ahead. “Those are the…”

“Imps!” Collin cried out, all three cherubs glaring at their rivals.

“Cherubs!” Moxxie finished.

“Diablos?!” Tirred asked.

“Elves!” sneered Devvin.

The intense stare-downs could have turned the universe upside down…which for a few moments, it did.

After several minutes of grueling silence, the first one to speak again was none other than Blitzo.

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on here?!”

Cletus crossed his arms. “I’ll tell you what’s going on! Because of you three monsters,” he pointed at the imps, “We’ve been banished to Earth and are this close to meeting our doom down in your filthy world!”

Blitzo just grinned smugly. “Welcome to Hell, baby. We hope you enjoy your stay.”

Cletus turned red in anger. “Shut up! We may have been banished from Heaven all thanks to you, but there is no way we’re going to end up like you!”

Erebos grinned and moved slowly toward the cherubs. “You sure about that?”

He spoke in a bone-chilling whisper that made even Cletus forget his wrath for a moment. “It’s clear that you’ll never be allowed to return to Heaven. Why wish for something you can’t obtain anymore? The only thing you can do now…” he mentioned in the direction of the imps, “…is take back what you’ve lost.”

Cletus glared at him. “I don’t need filthy demons to tell me what to do!”

“Of course you don’t,” Erebos mentioned. “Your company was just trying to do the right thing. Why should you let those monsters stand in your way again?”

“Stop!” called Docile. He flew gracefully in Cletus’ direction. “Don’t listen to that demon.”

“You’re one too!” Cletus seethed, flinching back.

“No, I’m an angel just like you,” Docile said. “That devil is trying to divert you away from your true path. Your company may have been banished, but you can still redeem yourselves and prove the other angels wrong! You’re already great at spreading positivity to those in need!”

“Ha!” Millie called. “Just like how you cherubs failed to save the life of that old man.”

“It was an accident, you emo slutty freak!” Keenie spat.

“The past is then,” Docile continued to Cletus. “This is now. You still have time to prove your innocence. I believe there is goodness in almost everyone.”

Collin flew up to the elf with wide shining eyes. “Y-y-you do?”

Docile wrapped an arm around Collin. “I know it. It’s there, even when all hope seems lost.”

Erebos snickered to Cletus. “You really gonna believe an inverted version of yourself and his subservient goblin fuck toys?”

The cherubs and elves gasped.

“That is so inappropriate!” Timmid called.

“Kiss your ass, sissy,” Dammna taunted as Timmid flinched away.

“Might wanna watch your words, blue bitch,” Millie growled to Dammna. “Just because we’re fellow demons, doesn’t mean I’ll let you pick on others like that.”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Dammna asked with a sneer. “Sing a murder jingle?”

“My coworkers and I did, actually!”

“I thought your song was very catchy!” Devvin praised.

“Thank you!” beamed Millie. “Now get lost, wannabes!”

But D.I.A.B.L.O. was far from done. Erebos spoke to Cletus. “Anyway…that deer cherub who kicked you out…she knew that you would fall. God doesn’t tolerate mistakes…thus those in Heaven now see you as just that, mistakes. How does it make you feel?”

“Shut it, demon crap!” Keenie shrilled. She flew toward Erebos but Devvin held her back. She freed herself from his grip. Dammna flew beside Collin, who whimpered as she licked her lips.

“Face it…the other cherubs wanted you three kicked out. Because you founded an illegal company that prided itself on saving human lives. You were getting famous for…not following the rules. Jealousy arose.”

“How do you know all this?” Cletus asked.

“We have our ways,” said Erebos. “Angels and demons going to Earth is mostly illegal…you know, changing of history, trauma and all.”

He flew into Cletus’ face and the Cletus flinched back in disgust. Erebos made his way around Collin and Keenie as he talked. “You could’ve been good passive little sheep and stayed in Heaven. But you didn’t.” He ran a hand through Collin’s white wooly hair. “Because you wanted something more. Paradise wasn’t enough for you.”

He grinned sinisterly at Keenie. “You were tired of being looked down upon by the more favorable members of your kind. Always searching for a way so that your…”

He peered underneath her yellow dress, “…divine talents could be brought to light.”

Keenie gave him a hard kick to the face, sending him back a bit. He scoffed in pain and rubbed his eye before straightening up and heading back toward Cletus. “And for a while, they did. But look where you are now. Fallen. Forgotten. Forced away from your home.”

“He’s using you guys!” Tirred warned Cletus. “You can still protect humanity and earn God’s grace once again!”

“No matter what you try to do, you’ll never be able to return. Becoming demons is your destiny!” Devvin said with a dark chuckle.

“Listen to the elf angels,” Collin pleaded to his boss. “The demons are full of sin, but you know we can choose to not stoop down to their level. We can be better cherubs, improve our relations with humans.”

“Right after we get rid of all those stinking demons!” Keenie scoffed, hands on her hips. “If we want C.H.E.R.U.B. to survive…”

“Then I.M.P. must pay, right?” Dammna asked, finishing her sentence. Keenie found herself nodding, mouth agape.

“Hey, we can hear you!” Moxxie yelled, drawing out his gun. He shot it upwards but the bullet was blocked by Tirred’s golden staff. The bullet rebounded away. Moxxie stared at Tirred in disgust. “Man you’re hard to look at.” Tirred just observed him coldly.

“Forget about I.M.P.!” Timmid called to the cherubs. “Focus on redeeming yourselves. It’s the only way you can return home.”

“Help other people for its own sake,” Docile advised. “You don’t need praise or rewards to keep doing the right thing.”

“He’s right, Cletus,” Collin added. “Help humans move away from sin…and we will as well.”

“Ha!” barked Dammna. “Sin and flaws are present in everyone, even in little angels. It’s as natural as sex, eating, drinking and breathing. No one can resist the natural temptations…”

Blitzo grinned. “I’d like to see you try and take us out,” he told Cletus. “Afraid we’ll make you a laughing stock again?” Cletus fumed.

“I hope the Exorcists erase you from existence!” Keenie shrilled.

Devvin appeared beside Keenie. “Why call on them, when you can plan your revenge yourself?”

“Not gonna happen!” she yelled. Just after she said that, her halo flickered again. A small crack appeared on Cletus’ halo. Bits of feathers drifted from Colin’s wings.

“This is not good,” Timmid whispered.

Erebos grinned. “Only a matter of time now, cherubs! It’s time to begin your journey toward justice!”

Back and forth, overlapping words, advice, taunts and threats pounded against Cletus. He felt like his head was being crushed by two opposing hands. Cletus grimaced, looking back and forth and around. He squinted and closed his eyes, curling into a ball.

“The accident wasn’t your fault, boss!”

“Help bring back C.H.E.R.U.B. to its former glory!”

“You’re nothing but a crying baby and a failure. No wonder Heaven doesn’t want you guys.”

“Thy company come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven…”

“Your demonic destiny is here!”

“Give into sin!”

“Spread the love for here and above!”

“ENOUGH!”

Cletus spread out his arms and legs. The force sent many of the individuals back, but they quickly recovered. Lightning flashed in the sky as the battle began.

Although Blitzo, Moxxie and Millie couldn’t fly like everyone else, they made up for it by their array of weapons. Blitzo fired his tan flintlock pistol, the bullets rising in the air. One bullet hit Dammna’s hoof and she hissed in pain. Another grazed Timmid’s shoulder and she cried out.

Docile waved his hand and three golden crossbows appeared in the cherubs’ hands.

“It’s temporary,” he warned.

Wasting no time, Collin, Keenie and Cletus fired sparkly golden arrows from their weapons at the two demonic groups. Cletus and Blitzo fired rounds at each other, both of them expertly dodging the other’s attacks. Erebos laughed as Docile landed punches at him, which he kept blocking.

“Just as planned,” he grinned. “What a joy it is to see C.H.E.R.U.B. and I.M.P. duke it out.” The cherubs’ faces grew more vicious as they chased after the imps.

“Stop fighting, C.H.E.R.U.B.!” Tirred called in concern, but her words fell on ignorant ears.

Erebos landed a punch to Docile’s face and he quickly retaliated via a well-aimed uppercut. “You won’t get away with this,” Docile spat. “I don’t want to fight any of you guys but it appears I have no choice.”

Timmid screamed as Devvin suddenly caught her in a headlock.

“Ha! Surrender or she’s a goner!” called Devvin. Timmid struggled in vain against his grip. Docile glared as he aimed his staff at him, debating on what to do next.

Zing!

An arrow from Collin’s crossbow hit Devvin in the side, sending him screaming and flying off in the distance. He flew back in anger, but Timmid had already recovered. The cherubs’ golden crossbows vanished, the group now defenseless. Moxxie, Dammna, and Millie seized the opportunity to charge in, surrounding the cherubs. Timmid, Docile and Tirred blocked the path of the demons, holding them off with their golden staffs.

“I can’t hold them much longer,” groaned a strained Tirred to the cherubs. “Flee while you still can!”

“We’re not leaving you behind,” Collin said, determined.

Cletus tried to flee, but Dammna grabbed hold of him and tossed him right back with a chuckle.

Erebos arrived and smacked Tirred’s golden staff from his hands…he punched at the diablo’s chest in response. Docile landed several kicks to Moxxie, sending him stumbling to the ground.

“Moxxie!” Millie cried.

“I’m okay!”

Millie took out a black dagger and tossed it toward Timmid. She caught it and tossed it away. Cletus continued to dodge the bullets from Moxxie and Blitzo’s weapons. Keenie charged at full speed toward Millie’s head from behind her. She was just about to land a hard blow when…

A large hand grabbed her by the hair…Erebos, and tossed her hard toward the ground.

Crash!

“Y-y-you monster!” Collin cried.

Keenie growled as she stood up on shaking legs, wiping the dirt from her dress. With a swoop, she lifted herself up in the air before Blitzo could shoot at her. She finally rejoined Collin and Cletus…but the E.L.F. members were almost drained from the battle. The cherubs and elves stood battered and back to back against the surrounding demons.

Lightning flashed as several pairs of the angelic and demonic warriors went head to head. Millie was slashing her sword from underneath Timmid and Keenie, who were punching Dammna and pulling her long blue hair. Keenie slapped Dammna across the face while Timmid yelped as she dodged Millie’s weapon from below. Timmid summoned an angelic harpoon and clashed with Millie. They moved in a dance, metal against metal. The point of the harpoon barely missed Millie’s head. Millie leaped onto the harpoon and raced on it with her sword in her mouth. Timmid’s eyes were wide with surprise. She flipped over Timmid, grabbed her sword and swung it in an arch, knocking Timmid down. The angelic harpoon clattered softly onto the grass. Docile made it vanish with a wave of his hand.

Moxxie fired his gun and hit Devvin several times. He hissed as black blood ran from parts of his legs. “Get the sheep, you idiot!”

“I fight my own battles,” Moxxie retorted, as he dodged Collin’s punches and blasted Devvin’s revolver out of his hand with a well-aimed shot.

Collin and Tirred shared a look, then both swooped on either side of Devvin. With two hard punches to his face, Devvin plummeted to the ground. He glared at them from below as he slowly stood up and shook his head. Tirred tossed Collin out of range of Moxxie’s bullets before he got hit himself. He gasped in pain before landing on the ground to recover. He winced and glared at Devvin. Moxxie rushed at him, but Tirred shoved him back with a force from his golden staff.

Docile, Erebos, Blitzo and Cletus were going head to head as lightning lit up the sky around them.

“Take this, you fucker!” Cletus yelled as he grabbed a nearby rock and threw it toward Blitzo. The rock exploded from Blitzo’s bullet. Another bullet hit one of Cletus’ wing tips, making him stumble in the air. Docile straightened the cherub with one hand as he twirled his staff against Erebos in the other. Erebos flapped his bat wings menacingly. The ground shook below as more cracks appeared. I.M.P. moved to higher ground, gazing at the red lava below in the ground. It created a demonic red glow near the ground. Black blood poured from the demons’ wounds just as white blood flowed from the angels’.

Timmid stood up and flapped her white wings, glanced around in terror. “We have to stop fighting!” she screamed over the yells and the noises of war. “We’re going to destroy the Earth!”

Timmid suddenly screamed as Dammna smacked her on the head from behind. She plummeted to the ground, with Keenie catching the dazed angel and carrying her to a safe spot.

With ear-shattering yells, Cletus and Erebos rammed into each other, as did Blitzo and Docile. The leaders pushed against each other with all their might, as forces from their attacks shook the area. The demons’ horns grew longer and eyes appeared on the angels’ wings. Cletus and Docile glowed blue and white while Erebos and Blitzo glowed red and black. Docile’s harpoon spear pressed against Blitzo’s flintlock pistol. They all seethed and gave each other deadly glares.

Before long, the cracks and forces would spread to the rest of Earth. Heaven and Hell would collapse, the Earth being the final battleground and resting place…

The explosions knocked everyone back, sending all the creatures crashing to the ground. The forest had been burned down to timbers and steam was rising from the lake. Lyle’s mansion had been blasted apart to smithereens…yet the soot covered crowd still took pictures as the tour guide spewed his ever optimistic commentary. His hat was lopsided and he kicked broken glass away.

“One of the Lipton family heirlooms is this golden money bag statue which was gifted to Lyle in the early 1970s. And it’s still standing…”

The tour guide glanced down to see the statue littering the ground in pieces. “…or it was. I call dibs!”

The battle had been an intense stalemate. And all seemed lost as the ground prepared to swallow everyone in the lava and magma.

The dark clouds swirled in a spiral vortex before slowly parting. Sunlight shone from a circular patch of blue sky. The shaking and the yelling stopped. The cracks in the earth fused together and the world slowly got brighter like it did before. The Archangel Michael arrived from the opening, along with the cherub Deerie by his side.

Blitzo helped up his colleagues. “I think we can call this mission a successful failure.”

Millie supported Moxxie. “What about our target?”

“Forget about him,” Blitzo said. “And forget about those cherubs too. They’re done for.”

The imps looked over at the barely stirring cherubs on the ground.

“Well, looks like we won again,” Moxxie said. “Though we really need to tone down all this fighting.”

“Yeah, I’m tired and could really use an iced coffee right now,” Blitzo said. He took out his green “mare-juanna” horse figure and kissed it. “I knew this lucky charm would come in handy. Let’s go gang!”

The imps grinned and high-fived before disappearing through the portal to Hell.

Michael hovered in the air in all his glory, supported by broad white feathery wings. He had pale skin, blushes on his cheeks, and short blonde hair like his fallen brother Lucifer. A sword made of flames was tucked protectively near his belt. A glowing spiked white halo hung over his head with a crystal in the center. He wore a white suit and tailcoat, while several medals and badges shown from the front of his outfit.

He bore a stern expression on his face as the other groups slowly recovered.

“Four interdimensional companies fighting in the one world to cause the most damage to mortal lives. I’m ashamed at all of you. You were lucky that no more humans got hurt.” Michael briefly glared at the cherubs and diablos.

The cherubs and elves bowed their heads in apology, while the diablos looked on.

“I ask that all of you head back to your worlds immediately. If I ever catch you fighting here again, I’ll erase every one of you from existence. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir,” chimed the six angels.

“Lord Michael,” said Cletus, lifting his head. “The demonic imps have already left. And those diablos are the ones who started all this!”

“Please Lord Michael,” said Docile. “My company came here on behalf of the importance of C.H.E.R.U.B.’s protection. I humbly ask that you reconsider their previous errors and allow them a chance to…”

A rumbling sound was heard and cracks appeared in the ground again. Two gaping holes appeared in the ground. One of them shoot fire into the air.

“There’s our cue,” said Devvin to his companions.

Dammna grinned and pointed toward the cherubs. More cracks were forming underneath them, soon creating another hole. Erebos and his gang flew into the cherubs’ faces. “Have fun in the inferno!” cackled Erebos and his crew before they flew into the column of flames and down below. The ground closed over the portal and the flames disappeared.

Deerie laughed nervously at the frightened cherubs. “Yeah, no sorry guys. I’m afraid your test on Earth has come to an end and…well, yeah there’s only one place to go now.”

“Noooo!” the cherubs cried, huddling together.

To the horror of the cherubs and the elves, the fallen trio was starting to change in appearance. Their white wings turned stiff and black, the last of their feathers falling to the ground. Small leathery bat wings grew in their places. Their white halos cracked and fell to pieces in front of them. Keenie frantically tried to piece hers back together. Collin gasped as he held the pieces in his hooves. The halo pieces stopped glowing, fading to a stony dark gray. Keenie buried her pale face in her hooves…hooves that were now morphing into sharp claws. She screamed out loud as she clawed at her face.

“Lord Michael, do something!” begged Docile. But the archangel stood solemnly in the air, shaking his head.

The cherubs’ teeth soon grew sharp and white, cutting into their tongues and making them bleed. Their outfits changed from cheery pastel colors to bold fiery reds, oranges, pinks and yellows. Cletus clutched his head in pain as two small pointed horns protruded from his ginger head. The other cherubs also cried out, clutching at their newly formed horns stained with blood.

The ground collapsed underneath them, giving way to a deep hole with a reddish light and a portal to Hell between the rock walls. Lucifer’s curious grinning face appeared in the opening.

The cherubs felt themselves being pulled back by a powerful force toward the portal.

“No, no, no, no!” Cletus cried. “This can’t be happening!”

Keenie shouted out prayers to God, begging for his forgiveness. Collin wailed and bawled as he hung onto the grass for dear life.

Docile, Tirred and Timmid raced toward the cherubs.

“There’s no point in rescuing them,” Deerie said, flying in front of them. “Unless you troublemakers want to join them.”

Docile promptly punched the doe in the face before making his way toward the struggling trio.

They each placed their right hand on the cherubs’ foreheads as light shone from their teal hands. Tirred placed his hand on Collin, Timmid’s hand was on Keenie and Docile had his hand on Cletus.

Docile chanted in the Enochian angelic language and said: “I bless each of you with a chance to find the light. No matter where you are, it is hope you’ll never lose sight. You will find one person or more, who’ll help you along the way. And after discovering your true righteousness, you’ll return home someday. By the will of the Lord, so may it be.”

E.L.F. removed their hands and the light faded.

“Bye!” Deerie happily waved toward the cherubs before vanishing through the heavenly portal.

Timmid grabbed Keenie’s hands and pulled with all her might. Keenie’s face turned pale, her yellow dress now torn in the appearance of wildfire. The helm of her dress was red and spiked, her horns now black and curved like those of Charlie’s goat bodyguards. She had black bat wings and a pointed tail. Her wooly hair was red and her eyes were pink and yellow…before they gave off a strange red glow.

Keenie sneered at Timmid, only seeing the red face of Millie laughing at her.

“Get away, you disgusting demon!”

Her voice sounded like her own but more distorted.

“I’m not…” Timmid began but Keenie slapped her in the face before falling with a scream into the portal below.

“Keenie!” cried Collin, briefly staring down at her disappearing form. “I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna die!”

Cletus had horns and black wings as well, though his face took on more of a faint reddish tone. His overalls were red with teeth designs on the pocket. His hair was red and black and darker blushes appeared on his cheeks. His pointed tail was short and red. His eyes had red irises and golden sclera.

He looked at Docile, only seeing Blitzo’s face. He revealed his new grin of sharp white teeth and glowing red eyes. “This isn’t over, I.M.P.!”

Timmid and Tirred pulled with all their might, but Cletus was soon sucked in as well.

Collin glanced at the elves with bloody tears running down his face. His eyes were golden and pink, sometimes glowing red. He had curved goat horns, a pointed tail and black bat wings. His face was almost a tan-red shade and his wooly hair was black. His outfit had changed to a red-orange.

The three elves pulled, Tirred being supported by Docile and Timmid behind him, but Collin stayed in the same spot, his hooves dangling over the chasm.

“Sir!” called Tirred, as the elves were dragged inches closer toward the gap, even as they dug their feet in. “We’re being sucked in!”

“L-let go,” Collin whimpered.

“What?!” asked Tirred.

“You can’t let yourself fall!” Docile cried, tears welling up in his eyes. “We were supposed to save you guys…to help give you another chance…” The elves were almost at the edge.

Collin and the elves stared at each other in the eyes.

Collin took a deep breath as he thought of his friends.

“I-I-I’m sorry…”

With one last wide-eyed look, Collin let go of Tirred’s hands and vanished into the darkness. The elves weren’t getting pulled in anymore, rather they were pushed back a bit. The portal to Hell closed, and the ground in front of the elves sealed back together like nothing had happened.

“Why?” Docile asked Michael, turning around.

“C.H.E.R.U.B. set themselves up for their fate. They gave into their anger and were more focused on defeating their rivals instead of properly interacting with the humans. They still disobeyed the rules thus were sent to Earth to test their faiths. Alas, they gave into their selfish desires of revenge and pursuit of glory. One can now only hope that they'll redeem themselves in Hell…if they even survive that long. As for you three, remember my words of warning.”

Michael rose back into Heaven and vanished.

The three somber elf angels slowly rose up into the air and went through another heavenly portal back to their world. Back in paradise, Docile had never felt more alone. He gazed out at the colorful clouds through a window.

Docile didn’t even look at his coworkers. “Welp, the cherubs wanted to redeem themselves and continue their company, and we couldn’t save them. We failed. Thanks to those freaking diablos, they’re down in Hell now, so it’s a shame. All they wanted was to spread love and joy to the living world. And now, they’re separated from Heaven…potentially forever.”

Tirred grumbled. “Don’t say I told you so, but…I told you so.”

Timmid gave her boss a small hug as the three silently gazed at the clouds and sunlight.

From behind the elves, Sully Sirius did a small grin. He whispered, “Now this would make for a spectacular tragic film, don’t you think?”

Docile glumly turned his head all the way around, while his body stayed in place. “Please leave.” Sully looked at him and screamed in fright.

#helluvaboss #2p #heavenlyboss

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luciehercndale · 4 years

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Forgiven: A Herongraystairs One Shot

This is my one shot gift for my 8,7K followers celebration for @daisyherxndale . I really hope you like this because I tried to pour my heart into it. It was really hard to write because I usually never kill anybody in my fics, but it doesn’t hurt to try (lol).

If somebody also wants a one shot gift from me, just hit my ask box. 😊

Couple: Will Herondale x Tessa Gray x Jem Carstairs Warning: death of a major character Setting: The Last Hours timeline

You gave up the fight You left me behind All that's done's forgiven You'll always be mine I know deep inside All that's done's forgiven

The starless night loomed on the London Institute like a thick cloth of dark blue velvet, and as Tessa was staring at it from the balcony of the drawing room, she felt happy. She had all that she wanted in her proximity: her husband, her children, even Jem was close although he couldn’t be as close to her as she wanted, but it was okay. Despite everything that happened lately, things seemed under control. She probably shouldn’t had been optimist because things could change in the blink of an eye, but what could she do?

“Mom,” James called from behind her and she turned with a smile. The lights were off, but James’ face was not completely hidden in the darkness. “You need to come out. Lucie has fainted, and…”

Tessa’s expression abruptly turned to apprehension. “What happened?”

“Come with me and I’ll explain, I-,” he began, then his voice stopped, as if he was chocking, and grabbed her hand to lead her to where his sister was. “I’m sorry, mama. I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry for what, James? Tell me what happened!” she demanded, trying to keep calm. “Why haven’t you taken her inside? Where is your father?”

James didn’t reply, he hurried towards the big doors that lead outside, moved by an oppressing anxiety. She had never seen him like this, she thought, but perhaps he hid it well. Once he opened the doors, Tessa couldn’t help herself and run towards Lucie. Cordelia and Matthew were also there, her parabatai keeping Lucie’s head on her legs while the other tried to hold her in place.

Lucie’s face was partially covered with blood, and her hair attached to her forehead. Her face was ashen, too pale, too lifeless.

She fell to her knees besides her and grabbed her face, caressed her forehead, and checked her pulse. “What happened, Cordelia?” she demanded again.

Cordelia was covered by blood herself and it had stained her dress. “We wanted to tell you, we really wanted to tell you and your husband about it.”

“What did you want to tell us? What, Cordelia? Speak, we don’t have much time!” she commanded, checking her daughter’s breathing. “Thank you,” she murmured to herself more than to them. “She’s still breathing. Have you applied some iratze?”

Tessa looked at James, who looked at Cordelia, who looked at Matthew. The three of them exchanged glances that she didn’t like – they were surely keeping something from her, and she wondered why they weren’t keen on revealing it.

“James…” Cordelia said, her voice almost a whisper in the dark. “Should I?”

James’s expression was grave and he shook his head. “I should,” he agreed, then his gaze moved swiftly from his two friends, who nodded. “We went to our grandfather.”

Tessa froze in place. “You did what? James, I told you, you shouldn’t look for him. We all told you. I don’t care who he is or what he does, I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. We are sorry. Lucie… she… we…” James voice shook, and Tessa felt remorse in his words. “He struck her with his magic. We arrived just in time because she went alone to where he was hiding.”

Tessa squeezed Lucie’s hand and looked at her. “Oh, Lucie. Why? Have you called Jem?”

“Will went to Jem,” Matthew explained listlessly. “We met him when we got there. He decided to personally go to him because he didn’t trust somebody else to call for him.”

She felt relieved by the news, but still, something was wrong. “Why is she here, though? Do you want me to help you take her inside?”

“She’s here because she can’t move past the entrance,” Cordelia said, resigned. Tessa could tell that Lucie’s friend was trying hard not to be affected by the moment, but she could see it in her eyes. She wanted to cry. “It’s like there is an invisible barrier that doesn’t let us pass,” she explained.

How serious was this?

They all heard footsteps coming from the gate, and Tessa was relieved to see Will and Jem running to them, the carriage of the Silent Brothers barely inside of the entrance as if they had hopped off before it would completely enter the cobblestone yard of the Institute.

“Has she regained consciousness?” Will wondered, putting a hand on Tessa’s shoulder, as Jem knelt down to check on Lucie.

How long has she been like this? Jem asked to the younger onlookers.

James passed a hand through his already tousled hair. He was pacing behind Cordelia, and he couldn’t stay still. “A while,” he admitted, sighing in frustration. “Maybe an hour.”

“An hour? Why have you waited so long to call somebody?” Will demanded, his voice as sharp as a knife. He didn’t intend to unleash at James, but he was losing his mind. “What if she can’t be fixed?”

Calm down, Will. She’s still breathing. Now I need to…

Jem’s words were cut short, and nobody realized what had just happened until it was too late, because they were shoved away from the scene with a powerful thud.

Tessa stood still as intricate vines held her legs rooted to the place. She didn’t know how she was standing since she had been on the ground less than a moment before, and what was worse was that it wasn’t just her legs bound by the shrubs, but her hands as well. She looked down and saw the vines already cutting her skin, drops of blood falling on the cobblestone of what she called her home staining the pavement. That place had witnessed many encounters with their enemies, like during the clockwork war more than twenty years before, but she thought they were safe.

She thought the Institute was safe. She had been very content just a few minutes earlier, staring at the peaceful sky full of stars above her, why had life decided to change her mind and play this trick?

She didn’t believe in religion, she didn’t believe in any faith, but somehow, she felt as if this was the payback for something. Had she wished too much? Was this what fate reserved to people like her who were cursed with the special gift of immortality?

She felt her throat dry at the sight of her bound hands, but it wasn’t over. She glanced around her to check that everyone was alright: Will and Jem were getting back on their feet, while Matthew, Cordelia and James were still in a corner, huddled together and checking on each other. They didn’t look hurt from where she was, but she wasn’t able to see clearly. They had been thrown in opposite directions and quickly caught sight of her.

She searched for Lucie and she felt her heart fall in her stomach when she couldn’t locate her. She couldn’t move, and she could only see a part of the yard, but Lucie wasn’t there.

“Where is Lucie?” she asked the others.

“Tessa!” Will hurried to her without thinking, but Jem stopped him. He gazed at his friend with a frown. “Why are you stopping me, Jem? We need to free her!”

Look behind her, Jem murmured, and Tessa, despite being far from them, could also hear the tinge of agitation in his voice.

“How is it…”

“Possible?” Lucie inquired; a smug grin painted on her face. Tessa couldn’t see her daughter, but she knew she was behind her. “Everything is possible when you are a prince of hell, my dear shadowhunter. Oh, have I said dear? There is nothing dear about you. Your life is meaningless to me. But you were essential in the creation of my -”

“Who are you? Where is my Luce?” Will demanded angrily, balling his hands into fists. He wanted to advance towards Tessa and whoever was impersonating Lucie, but Jem was still holding his arm to keep him from rushing closer to his family.

“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to dispose of her body, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s still here,” she touched her chest with a finger, “but if I decide she’s to my liking, I may not leave her. She’s a pretty girl, smart, willing to collaborate. Do you know that she came to me asking to resurrect her boyfriend?” she asked to no one in particular as she walked around Tessa until she could look her in the face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tessa Gray. I reckon you’re my daughter, apparently,” she said with disgust.

“Belial,” Tessa recognized with contempt.

“The one and only. Your son over there tried to destroy me and didn’t let me take his body once I returned from my little vacation, but your daughter here… it’s good you had two children.”

She couldn’t believe her eyes. She had often asked herself who her father could have been, but she had always dismissed the idea of even trying to look for him, to know who he was, to find out what were his powers and what she could do with them. She thought it wasn’t worth it. She knew her father was a prince of hell, and princes of hell were almost like them, except they were fallen angels, which meant that they also took pride in having really lived in heaven before their fall.

Somebody gasped in the distance, probably Cordelia, and Tessa saw that she was wielding Cortana.

Belial turned, following Tessa’s eyes to her daughter’s parabatai. “That would be useless, my dear,” she mocked Cordelia with a bat of her lashes – so unlike Lucie. “You already tried to hurt me with that petty golden thing once, but I won’t be fooled again. And ah, a little reminder. If you stab me, your friend will also die.”

“No one is going to die tonight, Belial. If you leave quietly,” said Will.

Belial gazed at him, tilting his head with a smirk. His eyes were still Lucie’s light blue, but they had lost their depth. Now they were hollow, and mocking. “You don’t interest me, or you’d be already dead, William Herondale,” he admitted. “I came for the most valuable piece,” Belial continue, moving around Tessa and stroking her chin. But the gesture lacked affection, because that wasn’t Lucie, it was just her body. Tessa shivered.

“What do you want?” Tessa inquired brusquely. “If it’s something I can give you, I will. But you need to leave us alone.”

The prince sneered at her. “You have such a temper, Tessa Gray. The sacrifice will be worth it, for sure. Tatiana will finally be disposable after this.”

She didn’t have time to ask what was he saying, because it all happened too quickly. Tessa just saw Belial grab Cortana from Cordelia’s hand, and in a swift move, the demon freed her feet and her hands from the vines. She barely registered Belial’s movements as he used the legendary sword to pierce her skin. And yet, she had just glanced at her hands for a second.

She felt her chest warm, and she realized that it was her blood scorching her. Why was her blood so heated? She feared that Belial would strike her again, but she barely had the time to think about this as she dropped to the ground, her strength suddenly leaving her body. She would have probably hit her head if she hadn’t fallen on her arm. She noticed Lucie’s body lying on the stones and she felt relieved. Belial had probably left her, or so she hoped.

She was losing consciousness by the second, but she saw that Lucie seemed to be waking up, and she looked startled?

“Mama,” she heard her say, then she felt her daughter grab her hand.

She felt another person put her head on a warm surface; perhaps it was a pair of legs? She tried not to close her eyes and she saw a flash of black and blue.

“Will,” she whispered, but her voice was a distant murmur.

“Yes, Tessa, I’m here. I’m here, Jem is here, you’re going to be alright,” he tried to reassure her, touched her face with his hand, kissed her hand… she noticed his hand was red, too red, too fast… “Don’t leave me,” he pleaded.

“My blood stained your hands,” she told him, as if she was saying something random, something ordinary. She thought her brain was acting up, why was she thinking about his hands?

But he didn’t care. He removed his evening jacket and pressed it on her chest, on her heart. Her heart. She had all the people she cared about around her. They were all part of her heart, and they were the reason why she woke up every morning. And yet, she felt her beat slow down, as if the love she had for them and the affection they also felt for her, wasn’t enough to let her heart keep its heartbeat. And in that moment, she was sure…

There is nothing we can do, she heard Jem say. His tone was blank, but she detected sorrow in it. Her time… her time has come, he added.

“What? But she’s immortal! She can’t be dying, she can’t!” Will shouted in the dark of the yard, his eyes still fixed on her. She could barely see him. “Tess, tell him. Tell him that you’re not leaving.”

Tessa opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out at first. “I’ve… I’ve always loved you. I love… everyone of you,” she murmured as she tried to look at all of the faces around her. “James, Lucie, Will, Jem… I love all of you.”

“I love you,” Will told her, his voice breaking by the tears falling on his face, which were now wetting her own. She noticed they were warm. “You are strong, Tessa. I know you’re a warrior. Remember what I told you once? You’re like Boadicea, you fight. You win.”

She tried to smile, but she didn’t know if she succeeded, since she felt a strange feeling seeping in. Emptiness. She was drowning somewhere, far away. She wondered if there really were a heaven and a hell, and if there were, where would she go?

“Don’t blame yourself for this, bach,” she told him. “This is not your fault. Not Lucie’s, not… James’,” she coughed, then she closed her eyes. Closing her eyes was comforting. If she would only…

She felt at peace after shutting her eyes, but she couldn’t tell them. They wouldn’t know. She wouldn’t know either how that night, which seemed so beautiful and haunting, had turned into her worst nightmare.

They would never forget the moment when Tessa died.

The way Will cradled her limp body into his arms to check her heartbeat and found no sound: emptiness, hollowness, as if Tessa had turned into a doll, a mannequin. The screeching sound of his heart breaking in the dead silence of the night as he wept on her corpse, who just a few hours before he had made love with. The same body he had worshipped countlessly as if she was a goddess, his goddess who would live forever. But then, why…

He couldn’t understand why she couldn’t be saved – there must be something they could do, something the Silent Brothers could do. But Jem was sure. He was sure that she couldn’t be fixed, there was no cure for her, and this shattered the heart he still knew could feel with clarity, with emotion. Because a part of him had died too, just like Will had lost a part of himself that night.

And James and Lucie were crying besides their father, both asking for forgiveness because they had been reckless, they hadn’t asked their parents and uncle Jem for help, and now this was the result. They shouldn’t blame themselves; Tessa had said, but what could they do?

Everyone was falling apart that night, even Cordelia and Matthew who weren’t related to her at all.

Who would have thought that a night so dazzling and full of bright stars would bring such an agonizing demise? But that was the beauty and the bitterness of life: it played with death every day as if living was a game of chess. And sometimes, life lost the bet, and the devil came to collect.

#will herondale #tessa gray #jem carstairs #will and tessa #herongraystairs #james herondale #lucie herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #matthew fairchild #wessa #the infernal devices #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #jessa #jem and tess #my edits

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astyle-alex · 3 years

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[FanFic] Start with Why | the Old Guard

You’d think, eventually, the excitement of posting a new chapter of something would simmer down a bit, especially when the chapter’s already live on other platforms, but nope. I’m still hyped up to share it here!

Start With Why

Fandom: the Old Guard Pairings: Background Nicky x Joe Characters / Focus: OT5 + Copley, reacting to Booker's betrayal Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None (well, language, because the team are all quite colorful) Total Word Count: 10,288 Chapter Word Count: 1,757

Summary:

The thing about betrayal is that it hurts. Sometimes it hurts too much to see the broader situation clearly. But after Booker's betrayal, the team has to look at themselves and see how every one of them is culpable. Booker may have done the deed, but his measly 200 years makes him a child to the others, especially Andy, and like babysitters are to blame when their charge sets the curtains on fire, the Family needs to ask themselves WHY and accept the honest answers. Why Copley, Why Merrick, and Why something made Booker believe that his choice was the right one for his Family...

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Part III :: Nicky

Nicky holds the middle ground.

He provides a more ranged variety of support.

It is the role he’s always had, the one he’s always volunteered for.

He can be cold and objective when he needs to be, no matter what’s at stake.

But this is a test like no other that he’s faced.

He hurts for his little Family, for every member of it.

Booker is his brother and yet he hurt the rest of them— hurt them acutely and intentionally in a way that he had to know would sting like nothing else ever could.

And yet… Book is hurting so much as that and more, so lost in the despair as he was to have been unable to see things with any hint of clarity.

Andy says he truly thought it would help.

Nile says he never thought the others would be grabbed, that he’s worried for Nicolò and Yusuf’s future and the potential pain they’d face when the Almighty that brought them together eventually tore them apart.

Joe is still too hurt and heartbroken to say anything he truly means.

And Nicky doesn’t know where that leaves him. Where that leaves them, both the two of them and the four of them… and even the five of them, to be honest.

Eventually, the argument lapses into silence, weighted and thick with too much grief to sort through the varied points of origin.

Nicky stands.

Joe nearly falls out of his seat as he stands to step in front of him— bodily barring his way toward Booker with a kind of heart-broke desperation that makes Nicky nearly crumble.

And yet…

Nicolò di Genova does not back down.

Such is not a trait within his nature. His gaze is filled with sympathy as it meets Joe’s own despairing and betrayed one, but he does not back down.

Yusuf is Nicolò’s heart and soul, his whole reason for being better than he was— for being a person who could overcome what Booker had not— but Yusuf is not all he is. Yusuf is not the piece of him that defines the limits of what he can be, but the start of his potential. He and Yusuf are still discrete entities, even after eons, they are their own people bound by Fate and love and history, but not merged in any way that makes their love banal or any less miraculous.

They are not two halves of one whole.

They are two hearts that beat in sync, two souls that sing in harmony, two minds that see and feel and know enough to teach each other— to show each other new things and new perspectives even after centuries of being in this world together.

Joe cannot see what Nicky does, and Nicky won’t let his place at Joe’s side determine his ultimate loyalties without his own past-due evaluation.

Nicky stares Joe down, implacable, until his lover deflates enough to sag back into his seat— heaving Nicky’s pseudo-betrayal off with a huff as he keeps his back firmly to the window.

Nicky rests his elbows on the rail beside Booker and waits in silence until Book looks over at him— having heard the door open and braced himself for something louder and more final than a quiet conversation with Nicky.

Nicky doesn’t deliver final verdicts.

He’ll explain them if the initial delivery doesn’t get the message properly across, but he does not report the sentence first of all.

If Nicky has a verdict for you, you’ll find it out when he’s put a bullet in your brain.

Nicky also doesn’t ask. He demands the answers he seeks when he knows who has them.

But here, he doesn’t know any questions that he actually wants to have answered, yet.

He just wants Booker to explain, wants in turn to explain himself to Booker… because they are a Family, and none of them can possibly exist in true isolation.

Book is the one who made the bad decision, but the rest of them are not absolved of all responsibility, as they were all party to creating what bleak circumstances Booker faced, to creating what dismay he believed was enough to push him into making his horrid choice.

Nicky waits for Booker to speak his Truth, waits with his eyes on the restless sea.

“I am so sorry, Nicky,” Booker says, looking at him with imploring eyes.

“I cannot give you absolution, Basti,” Nicky tells him, gaze still on the ocean. “And I cannot yet bring my own self to forgive you, no matter what reasons you bring to bear.”

Booker falls silent, defeated like a kicked dog.

“We failed you too, however, in letting you face your despair as we did,” Nicky tells him after a long moment of solemn contemplation. “We failed you in how we brought you into our Family, failed you every bit as much as we’ve ever failed the civilians that we cannot save. But we also did not pull the trigger on this, as you did, and I am finding it difficult to reconcile such divisive and complementary guilts.”

They always think of Joe as the one to give the pretty speeches, and his Yusuf certainly deserves the epithet, but Nicky appreciates those speeches not because he is incapable of wielding words himself, but because he is more economical with how he states his feelings.

He pulls no punches, leaves no ambiguity.

When he is confused, he says so, and when he’s not he states it clear.

“Yusuf is my heart, my soul, my mind’s only true peace,” Nicky tells his little brother with the cool detachment of age and sympathy. “We have let you bear 200 years of misery and let ourselves forget, nigh even then, how truly young you still are. Nile helped me to remember it, her saying how you had called her so young. A ‘neighbor with a dead pet’, she said. It goes for comfort, too, Basti— it goes for certainty and calm.”

“You’ve never been a father, Nicky, even as old as you are,” Booker pleads, half frantic to have his reasons reconciled. He wants to be clear, to give himself over unto the others’ understanding, to be heard and truly listened to… He is desperate for it, desperate to be understood, in a way Nicky has, unforgivably, realized he hadn’t the patience to fully see before.

“And you’ve never had a love grow warm inside you over eons, to feel the Faith in Truth it brings,” Nicky replied, not ceding any ground.

Booker bites his tongue— cutting off what was sure to be a sour retort, a snap of love turned too bitter to bear. Of trust that feels betrayed as what he feels should be a valid point is just summarily dismissed.

“You loved them very much, your wife and children,” Nicky states, confident that his words will not be taken as any kind of understatement. “You loved them until it consumed you like a fire, as you believe Yusuf and I love. But you are still so young in how you see things if you think the love either of us has could ever die with the ones to whom we give it.”

Booker blinks, equal parts surprised and hurt, Nicky thinks.

“Your family hurt you at their end,” Nicky goes on, “They levied accusations, and you have let yourself descend to meet them. This man beside me is not the one they loved while living, and you do them disservice by believing you could become the monster that they made you. Their love is pure and powerful, tainted only by mortal concerns that I have Faith their immortal souls regret. But if they were first to meet you now, they would not be able to abide it.”

Booker is retreating, sliding away from Nicky, inch by inch, along the rail.

“If Yusuf dies, I will despair,” Nicky confesses. “I will ravage lands and wreck vengeance on all villains I can find, killing countless in his name. But the grief will ebb in the face of what good I can still do in his name, what good I can lay claim to having had his heart inspire. It will hurt, and I cannot bear to think of what horrors I may commit at the apex of it, but I cannot believe I will forget the goodness of my Yusuf, the good-work he had, in all his life, strove to create. I cannot believe I will dishonor my own love for him by failing to carry his work on.”

“ ‘This is what we do’, you say,” Book says with a keening sort of hollow voice. “It’s a mantra, not true belief. You want to believe it, but you have no proof and you want it.”

“You say Copley has proof, say you’ve seen it, yet you do not believe any more than I that what we do day to day affects things,” Nicky counters. “It is a mantra, and it is belief. The belief is more robust on some days than on others, but there is nothing that will break my Faith. I am a thousand years old, Basti, and the world has been awful for every single one of the years I’ve lived. But there are people who have lived longer lives because of my presence in the horrors of their worst moments, and I have found a way to let that be enough.”

Booker doesn’t speak— can’t speak.

Nicky turns his gaze away, looking back to the violent roll of the ocean waves.

“Tell me why, Booker,” he demands, voice soft and smooth and inescapable. “Tell me what it is you want. Tell me what will help you, or will help me see you.”

Booker half-collapses.

“I don’t have excuses left,” he manages eventually. “I don’t have good reasons, or bad ones…. Or anything. I don’t have anything. Just the grief and the regret.”

“You have us,” Nicky promises simply. “I cannot forgive you yet, but I can promise you that my inability is due only to the freshness of this hurt. You will be forgiven and welcomed back into the Family with no further stipulations, once you have paid your penance.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.” Booker knows Nicky cannot disagree.

But he feels his test of faith has been suddenly decided.

“Love does not care what you deserve,” Nicky says pushing off the rail to return to where the others wait inside for his assessment.

- - - - -

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#fanfic #the old guard #Immortal husbands #nicky x joe #Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova #nicolo di genova #yusuf x nicolo #yusuf al kaysani #Booker #sebastian le livre #Andromache of Scythia #nile freeman #james copley

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prince-toffee · 4 years

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Infinity

“Well, that concludes our meeting,” Queen Angella clapped her hands together and rose up from her throne, “I only hope our next session will be as efficient as today’s one. We’re making great progress.” Angella’s words were genuine, she was impressed how fast things were moving. All the kingdoms working hand in hand to repair the damage done by Prime’s invasion.

The rest of the Princesses gathered around the war table rose up with her and bowed in respect. Angella saw a few tense faces. Some were still getting used to the fact she came back from the dead. Both Alliance and Horde states shook hands and left, now that Hordak, Weaver and Prime were presumed dead, all the kingdom states previously supported by the Horde economy, usually poorer lands, fell on their knees and reached out to BrightMoon for aid.

All of Etheria united against a common threat, defeated it together and through that realisation the bonds grew stronger. Funny to think a mere thirty years ago, before the Horde, the Princesses couldn’t stand each other, leaping at each other’s throats.

It was amazing how well her and Hordak’s deal worked out.

Sure her temporary death, was a set back, so was the arrival of Horde Prime. Hordak reassured her that the portal had no possibility of working with the lack of advanced materials on the planet. However, the two of them didn’t count on the unpredictable variable that was, Entrapta of Dryl. Or that Angella’s disappearance due to the crisis engaged by Catra, would led her daughter Glimmer to guide Prime directly to the shadow dimension.

Luckily, Hordak and Entrapta managed to bring her back. And with the help of Shadow Weaver they managed to imprison Prime, out of sight. Through dark magic Weaver found out about the deal struck and so inserted herself into the equation, always looking for a seat of power. Hordak of course brought Entrapta into the fold, being the hopeless romantic that he was. He also recommended for Catra to play apart in all of it. He said she was smart, a fast learner, a strategist and deep down, he knew she was a better person than any of them. Angella begrudgingly accepted, but in turn decided to advocate for her own addition, Glimmer. In Angella’s absence, her daughter became a quite capable general. None had objections.

And so there were six.

Angella made her way to her throne room and ordered her throne guards to leave and allow no one in, no matter the clearance level. And she locked the doors behind them. She sat down on her throne, pressing her palm against the chair arm, which scanned and verified that it was her. The floor under Angella opened and the throne descended down.

The angel queen made her way through the dark sub-level corridor. It wasn’t even on the castle schematics for safety and security. Where she was greeted by a disembodied voice from the shadows, “Meeting ran late?”

“Don’t be absurd, I’m only five minutes, twenty-three seconds late... Why are you not waiting in the sub-level conference room with the others?” Angella asked the hovering Shadow Weaver, who simply shrugged.

“Call me paranoid. I wish, simply, to enter with the great Queen Angella, making sure none of you set a trap for me. Remember, I cou-” Weaver was interrupted by Angella.

“We know. No trap. Now, come on.” Angella knew that Shadow Weaver had the ability to undo the entire secrecy of their group. Being the powerful sorceress that she was, she could’ve simply revealed them in the minds of every person on the planet. But working from behind the curtain was what made them successful, so they had to keep a close eye on the witch. Well, she had an eye on every member.

Angella pushed open a pair of doors and revealed the other four members already in their chairs. The war table paralleling the one multiple levels above them, the one Angella was just in. Hordak and Entrapta didn’t even notice them walk in, the two partners simply continued with their theory sharing. Opposite them Glimmer and Catra bowed for Angella’s presence, side eyeing Shadow Weaver as she sat across from Angella on the other end.

“Alright everyone! If I may have your attention!” She didn’t ask as much as she ordered it. All the heads faced her in focus. Angella began, “Thank you, I suppose this is in a way the first true meeting of this... team, I suppose we can call it. You were all chosen to sit here, because you have showcased virtues and qualities befitting of a leader, if necessary... a mastermind. Hordak and Shadow Weaver presumed dead, and the rest viewed as war heroes - the public trusts us. Let us keep it that way. We sit here today, because we are the ones going to forge tomorrow, from behind the stage, for better... or for worse. That’s on us... Hordak.”

She turned her head to the alien and nodded as a sign for him to start his brief, “First order of business and highest priority is that of my brother. And his trial. This council will decide his fate. At the moment Horde Prime is kept on Beast Island under the influence of the island and further imprisonment of the Obtainment Spell, curtesy of Shadow Weaver.”

Weaver smiled under her mask, proud of her magical capabilities, folding her arms across her chest. Entrapta shared the cheerfulness, happy she was allowed to study the properties of the island and ultimately control it.

“I say we leave him there. Sounds to fine to me.” Catra was quick to make her decision known.

“Death. The safer option.” Glimmer stated countering Catra’s solution aggressively. She had no patience for Prime, knowing that Etheria could’ve been another world subjugated by his galactic empire, and she was partly to blame for his arrival. “Just let Adora hack his head off, problem solved.”

“She-Ra isn’t apart of this council.” Angella stated.

“Well, maybe she should be. I mean come on, it’s Adora! Where are you gonna find a better, more pure-hearted, person in the universe? Being good is sort of her whole deal.” Catra agreed with Glimmer’s proposal of bring their girlfriend into the fold.

“Adora is busy enough being the face of Etheria. A face the people can trust. Let’s not give the world a reason to loose that faith... And the girl can’t keep a secret to save her life.” Shadow Weaver dismissed the possibility of that option.

Angella followed on, “And killing Prime might not be the best decision either.”

Hordak returned to his holo-pad, which he wired to the war table. With a swipe of his finger upwards on the screen, the hologram display on the table lit up. A strange image came up, they didn’t know what they were looking at, “It is true. We might need to question him, see if he has any kind of knowledge or insight about these... objects. Since Entrapta and me cannot figure this out.”

Entrapta waved off dismissively at the idea with her hair, “Oh, please, we don’t need his help! We got it covered! He’s an idiot! And we’re a team! He doesn’t have the answers, I bet he couldn’t figure out the precise value of pi if it bit him in the hair!”

“You can figure out what pie is?” Catra arched her brow in confusion.

“What are they... Rune Stones? They look smaller.” Glimmer questioned, looking at the holo-display.

“Possibly of the same origin, that being the First Ones, but they are infinitely more powerful. Any bounds or limitations are yet unknown to us. Whatever these... gems are, they’re more powerful than any weapon I have encountered across my voyages throughout the universe.” Hordak claimed as multiple notes and graphs appeared on the display, most of which didn’t make any sense to the others.

“So what’s the plan?” Glimmer asked.

“The plan is there’s six of us.” Angella stated as she pressed one of her earrings, which lit up, simultaneously a silver briefcase immerged from the underneath Angella’ s seat. The other five exchanged looks between each other. Shadow Weaver and Entrapta seemed more enthusiastic and on board, whereas the girls and Hordak became more worried.

With two clicks the case opened, revealing inside six different coloured stones. Afterwards, none of them quite remembered or understood what happened. But each member proceeded to take a stone, almost as if the stones themselves spoke to each of them, mesmerised, hypnotised them. The gems guided the hands of their future wielders.

Angella reached for the Time Stone.

Hordak took the Reality Stone.

Entrapta received the Space Stone.

Shadow Weaver was given the Mind Stone.

Catra acquired the Power Stone.

Glimmer grasped the Soul Stone.

“Now what?” The magicat asked, firmly holding the ingot of Power.

Angella answered, “We safeguard it. Destroy it, if necessary, but ultimately, for now, let us see what good we may do behind the scenes.”

Hordak pocketed away his stone into one of his compartments in his new suit, “...Then we should have a code in case of emergencies... Since I have been studying the history logs from Horde Prime’s capital, learning about my people’s culture - I feel like I found a word to incapsulate our council. An ancient term, roughly translating to ‘one who is illusive, and enlightened’:

Illuminati.”

#spop #she ra #angella #hordak #entrapta #shadow weaver #catra #glimmer #infinity stones #short fic #idk thought it was fun

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diveronarpg · 4 years

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In fair Verona, our tale begins with LEONA GWAN, who is TWENTY-TWO years old. They are often called LADY MACDUFF by the MONTAGUES and works as their MEITITRICE. They use THEY/THEM pronouns.

TW: death, grief, drug mentions

They win Alvise’s trust with a single sentence. Who are you? he asks, and it’s the same question Leona has tried to force down the world’s mouth until it stomachs it, stomachs them. It was not always this way. Once, Leona knew how to sit among roses instead of RIPPING them from their roots, out of the earth and into their hands so they might draw strength from their thorns instead. Their mother taught them how to spread their fingers wide to catch the light; and how VAINLY Leona tried. With their heart in their pocket and eyes lifted to the heavens, Leona waited for the sunlight to pour into their palms and fill the gaping hole they felt in their chest. For years, Leona WAITED, never knowing what it was their soul desired. Once, their hunger was a quiet and patient thing. It knew how to wait for something to believe in: purpose, pleasure, pain, anything. When it came, it came in an ERUPTION of flames; in an unrighteous deliverance that plucked all the naïveté from their child-like heart and sunk its teeth into Leona’s faith, all with one fateful strike.

When their mother died, Leona turned to their father to save them both, but he buried his head in the sand as if he could live in a grave, too. Then the love in their mouth began to taste like ACID, rancid and rotten as Leona swallowed all the burdens their father could not carry. For Leona would wait no longer for the world to give itself to them. They would force the clouds open and TAKE from the universe all that they desired. If they needed to, Leona would devour the moon whole and let it sit in their belly, all to watch the world burn for taking from them, first. Instead, Leona chose to devour THEMSELVES. With all their fury and avarice and no guide to follow, Leona funneled all their energy into climbing every ladder. There was nothing they could not have, and no one they could not be. They earned top marks in their classes and won the hearts of their peers; it was not enough. At last, Leona looked to what was FORBIDDEN, all that was denied to those as beautiful and as accomplished as them.

When they learned of the pills and powders that passed through hands in the dark, Leona felt the aching in their chest begin to quiet. So down the rabbit hole, Leona DOVE. It was never the high they chased; it was the pleasure of understanding how the mind and body could be utterly changed. It was this FASCINATION that drove them to study chemistry and toxicology in university. It was this fascination — and their wicked, renegade tongue — that led them to the Montagues’ doorstep, a soldier’s hand at their neck as she forced Leona to their knees. This one claims our drugs are inferior, the soldier spat so harshly that they could see specks of saliva on the ground. Alvise bent to meet their gaze, appraising the wild DEFIANCE that Leona kept tightly coiled. Under the light of violence, it blossomed; with an ugly sheen, it declared itself in their eyes as Alvise studied them. Who am I? Leona repeated through gritted teeth, I am a study of how to RUIN a person. In a matter of days, Leona was an initiate. They knew nothing, and were absolved of everything for reasons no Montague understood but Leona.

In the SHADOWS, where even Damiano could not see and even Roman dared not enter, Alvise showered Leona with his wisdom and favor. A vow was made in secret: create something from NOTHING, and they would become a new breed of Montague. He would craft a position entirely for them, with no price to pay in blood or blade — if only they could concoct a POISON that could not be traced and would never be found. With an unholy vision in their eyes and a delight as black as Alvise’s greed, Leona bound their fate to his. When Alvise died, he took their dreams and ambitions with him and left Leona behind. But they had not forgotten the words he said to them in secret, and they knew — they knew that once bacio del mietitore was complete, the Montagues would welcome Leona through the gates of the gods. They have worked long into the night for this very moment of triumph: watching the same eyes that scorned them melt to AWE at the terror they created alone. They thought this would be enough to satiate them — but even now, a chill permeates to their core and the kiss of their own decay lingers on their lips. Such is the price for creating a cursed thing; such is the curse of making yourself a monster’s master. For the only way to learn destruction is to become DESTROYED. This, Leona knows, as intimately as they know the taste of their own creation.

MANUELE GWAN: Father. If only there is a way to burn away the blood they share with him. Their father lost the chance to save Leona all those years ago, when he gave his grief permission to devour them both. Were they to blame for abandoning him because they would not be submerged with him? Was Leona expected to forget that he stopped being a father to them long ago? They owe him nothing, and they will give him nothing. Whatever tie between them has been severed and torn apart without mercy — but here he is, an initiate with a sudden desire to become a father. Why did you follow me? they ask, as if the sound of snarling and gnashing teeth can drown the truth they hunger to know: Why didn’t you love me before it was too late?

ODESSA VERNON: Rival. It’s not her fault. As harmless and pure as Leona is lethal, Odessa would not catch their eye if not for her father. The way Alvise spoke of his children never sat right with Leona. What is there to love about two useless and stupid brats? Of the two, Odessa sparks Leona’s envy most — perhaps because Alvise once dreamt of tying their destinies together. She is the perfect light to your darkness, he once said to them, too proud to notice Leona’s furious silence. Leona’s brilliance is their own; they don’t need a stuck-up, spoiled princess to bruise their ego. Even if her beauty haunts Leona; even if Leona thinks of her smile as they taste their own venom.

ULRIK BRAUN: Chosen. If the Montagues were not to assign a monster of their own kind in their circle, Leona would have carved a throne for him with their bare hands. They would let their nails go jagged and their fingers bleed if it meant Ulrik — the only Montague to gaze upon their ambition with respect — will stay by their side. He is the father they choose, with a strangeness that complements their charm. Your hunger matches mine, he once noted with curiosity. I am the only person like you in the world, he said to them quietly. With their whole heart, excessive and self-gratifying in nature, Leona knows it to be true.

DAPHNE ALLARD: Fascination. Capulet loyalties aside, Daphne is a thief... and Leona quite likes thieves. Shortly after seeing Daphne’s gift for stealing hearts as well as wallets, they marched to Daphne with an accusation to test her smarts, followed by a grin of approval when Daphne’s response met their liking. She holds their attention as hostage without mercy; there is no part of Leona that is not utterly delighted by her. This is Leona’s match, their mirrored reflection. For the only poison Leona knows is bitter and biting; Daphne’s is sickly sweet, with a rotten apple core and the scent of artificial strawberry. Perhaps Daphne intends to kill them, or spoon the secrets out of their mouth like a mother to a babe. No matter. If this is a game, then Leona is five steps ahead; they know just how much bacio del mietitore will rot someone slowly.

Leona is portrayed by MOON GA YOUNG and was written by MINNIE. They are currently TAKEN by JENNA.

#lsrpg #mob rp #bio rp #active rp #crime rp #T #TNB #MONT #leona gwan

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tentoriwrites · 3 years

Text

Lunar Eclipse: Chapter One

Chapter One: The Betrayer’s Cage

AO3 Link

7490 words.

After thousands of years of playing warden, Maiev and Illidan come to know each other in a particular way. But what is the feeling between them and is it strong enough to overcome their circumstances and their fate? Who will break first if either of them breaks at all? How will Maiev fare after her time with the Betrayer? How will his time with the Warden change Illidan?

Notes:

This was inspired by a piece of art by AlexaelArtworks on Twitter and Instagram. It's amazing. 10/10. Highly encourage you to check them out!

I thought it would be interesting to approach this from the angle of Maiev once being a priestess and how that would still have lingering influence over her. I also thought it would be interesting if Illidan at least knew of her from her time in the Sisterhood with Tyrande. This explores Illidan's motives a bit in an attempt to reconcile his two seemingly incongruent lines of lore and how they wrapped things up in WoW.

This may get more spicy in the future so additional tags may be added.

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A single drop of water fell from a gap between two stone blocks in the ceiling. The room was small, wide enough for an average sized Night Elf to barely miss the walls if they reached wide. It was slightly deeper from the barred door to the back wall. A single torch crackled to the left of the door, but it did little to illuminate the dark space. A ragged breath followed the drop, almost a growl from a feral animal. Maiev’s eyes burned with anger as she stared at the hunkered form before her. Leather bound fingers curled tighter around the leather binding of her chakram handle. “You feel nothing for what you did…” She hissed under her breath before backhanding the prisoner with her free hand.

“With your narrow sense of virtue and justice you could never hope to understand…” The prisoner answered in a mocking tone even as blood trickled from his busted lip.

“Do not speak to me of justice,” she yelled losing her last bit of composure. The chakram blade flashed to his exposed neck. “You killed so many innocent lives in your pursuit of power! Then endangered us all with your recklessness!”

“Lives that would have been lost to the Legion. I did them a… service,” he answered nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders as best he could.

“Or they may not have died at all,” she seethed as she pressed the blade just a bit harder into his flesh. “But do go on about how our brethren sing the praises of Illidan the Merciful.” Her voice lowered to a growl as she leaned in just a little closer, put just a bit more weight on her blade.

“Does anyone truly survive a war like that? Clearly you came out the other side unscathed, Priestess. A model of the goddess herself.” A cocky smirk quirked one side of his lips up as a small trickle of blood seeped from the wound on his neck.

“Elune forgives all for those who seek it. She’ll forgive me leaving her temple to protect her people.”

“Do you really think such things as gods exist and they care about us?” His voice drawled on sarcastically to the sound of leather clenching around leather filled the room. “If they do exist, surely they abandoned us. Why else would this have happened?”

“Perhaps because the foolish abandoned them first.”

“And yet the faithful suffered in measure with the faithless.”

“The faithful retained their original forms. That is more than I can say for the faithless.” She grabbed one of the horns at his forehead and pulled his face to meet her gaze head on.

“I really thought too highly of you, Priestess. Blinded by the radiance of your baseless faith you cannot see the darkness of this world. All you “Sisters” are alike in that…” He maintained eye contact and every part of his cockiness as he spoke.

“Do not confuse me with HER.” Maiev’s voice took a much more even tone of hate as the blade drew a long, thin cut across his neck. Deep enough to be noticeable but shallow enough not to kill him. “Tyrande isn’t coming to see you, to tell you all the pretty words you want to hear.”

“Do you think bringing HER up will give you any sort of advantage?” For the first time his façade cracked in the form of some disdain in his voice.

“No… just reminding you how alone you are. How no one thinks you a hero, a savior, or whatever it is your delusions would lead you to believe. All you have left to look forward to is me. For… a… very… long… time…” She gently tapped each side of his face. Then, with a smirk of her own she healed the wound on his neck, but still left him weak enough to remain restrained. There she left him on his knees cocky smile still on his face.

“You think to comprehend what I’ve seen. What I’ve come to know. There is nothing you can do to me worse than the Legion.”

“Perhaps not.” The cell door closed with a dull thump before a magical barrier surrounded him. “But I have far more time with you than they did.”

Days passed and ran together in darkness and quiet. The only light the faint glow from the fel-scar tattoos covering his body and the light of his eyes. It had been so long since he had anything to eat or drink and weakness was starting to dull his senses. He pulled on the blessed chains that secured his arms. They rattled dully but did not budge. His reward for his efforts a burning sensation on his skin. Though, he had to admit, the burning had lessened recently. He couldn’t be sure if that’s because he had become numb to the feeling or the blessing was weakening.

The chains on his ankles and wrists were the same. The chains on his wrists running through a massive ring anchored deep in the wall before wrapping around his ankles. The more he tried pull the more he only hurt himself. Standing was impossible. So there he kneeled, for so long her had lost any sense of time.

“I wonder why they didn’t just kill me.” He said it a loud but he didn’t expect an answer.

“The High Priestess and your brother thought it in ill taste to kill you.”

He looked up to the bars only to “see” Maiev there in no armor and apparently weaponless. The hubris to presume she could enter the cell of the Betrayer as if he were nothing more than a saber kit. He kind of like that bold confidence. Perhaps he could use it against her.

“I thought it foolish myself. But I do not lead the Kaldorei. So here we are.” She sat a wooden tray with bread and water in front of him just far enough away that he couldn’t reach it for the chains.

“Something we can agree on. No robes today? No sacred armor to mark your false righteousness, Priestess?” Illidan scoffed at her turning his head away from the sustenance his body clearly craved.

“I’ll give you a little lesson.” Maiev sat a stool down inside the cell before closing the door and the barrier came back up. “Perhaps the hardest lesson to accept as a priestess or druid is that life and death are not separate entities. One cannot exist without the other.”

“Then we agree some must die in order for others to live.” He interrupted her with an air of vindication in his voice and that same smirk on his face.

“Likewise, there are two sides to the moon. The bright side we see and the dark side we cannot.” She sat down on the stool and leaned against the bars completely ignoring his statement. “Up until now all we have ever seen, all we have ever known, is the bright side of the moon. The side that promises life and hope. But the old texts speak of a way to invoke the dark side of the goddess. A warrior cloaked in shadows and driven by vengeance. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

“Because you want me to know you still prescribe to bedtime stories told to children?”

“Tyrande is the light side of the moon. The side that believes in life and hope. But someone has to be the dark side of the moon and do that which the light side cannot.”

“And that’s you. The lapdog doing the dirty work so she can keep her righteous hands clean.” The words tumbled from his mouth as if he had been given poisoned food by a trusted friend. The betrayed and not the betrayer.

“As you said, no one truly survives a war the likes of which we’ve seen.”

A long silence settled between them. Illidan finally glanced at the tray but quickly looked away.

“Answer my questions truthfully and I’ll give you some food and drink.”

“We could do this for a thousand years and you’ll never understand my motives.” He scoffed and looked her in the eyes.

“I don’t give a shit about your motives. I want answers.”

“What good are answers now? Answers won’t change anything.” Defiant even now, he challenged her. “Why don’t you just kill me and tell them I starved to death?”

“Shall I give you the same mercy you gave the innocents you killed?” Maiev donned her own cocky smile. “Sorry, I’m not feeling very merciful today.” She got up only to crouch in front of him. “I have a different kind of mercy in mind.” She grabbed his dirty ponytail and yanked his head back.

“I had no idea you harbored such proclivities, Priestess.”

“Disappointed you outlived my chastity, Betrayer?” She didn’t give him the opportunity to answer. Instead she poured the water down his throat as soon as he opened his mouth again.

He only managed to swallow part of it, the rest falling down his dirt caked face and chest. He choked and coughed causing some of the water to spit back in her face.

“The bread won’t go down as easily, but I’m willing to try if you are.” She forced his head to one side.

“I’m not hungry.” He managed as defiantly as he could through continued coughing.

“Funny your stomach growling earlier would suggest otherwise. Luckily for you, I thought this might happen so I took the liberty of liquifying the bread for you. She reached to the tray for the other wooden cup.

“I won’t fall for the same trick twice…”

“I counted on that…” She smirked as she released the matted strands of hair from her hand. A balled fist struck him in the side. He gasped just enough for her to force the cup to his lips and force the contents down his throat.

After another coughing fit that left him covered in bits of bread she leaned in close and whispered an incantation he didn’t recognize. The chains around his wrists, neck and ankles felt burning hot against his skin eliciting a muffled scream.

“This is your idea of mercy?” He attempted to mock her through grit teeth.

“I never said it was a mercy for you.” She took up the tray as the bars opened for her and the barrier fell. “Until next time, Betrayer.” She kicked the stool out the opening and the bars swung shut behind her.

“I look forward to it.”

Days bled together once again until Maiev finally returned. Dim eyes met her as the blessed shackles drained more of his strength each day. No greetings were exchanged as a group of wardens came in and cleaned up the cell. Once it had a modicum of cleanliness, they left Maiev and Illidan alone with a tray of food and a stool. After a long silence Maiev forwarded an ultimatum.

“Food or a bath?”

“Is this some kind of joke?” He couldn’t hold back the indignation in his voice.

“Both it is.” She moved to take up the liquified bread.

“There will be no need for your previous tactics.” Illidan’s voice was weak but still maintained a certain level of cockiness despite it all. “Just do what you came here to do and…” His voice trailed off as his brow furrowed in anger, nostrils flaring. “Satyrs. The true betrayers of our people.”

“The Watchers and I cleaned up a group of them several days ago. I bathed since then…” She sounded almost impressed.

“It is a stench I will never forget. The smell of cowardice and shamelessness.” More and more disdain seeped into his voice. Despite his long imprisonment, speaking of it seemed to give him strength. Or his rage did, eyes flaring brightly to emphasize it. He pulled against his restraints in a show of his desire to be free to fight the demons he once hunted.

Maiev plunked the stool down in front of him and pressed a cup of water to his lips. “What makes you any better than a satyr? You sold yourself to demons to become stronger.”

“But I did not become one, contrary to what you may believe.” Illidan answered her only after he had drunk all the water she offered him. “I pretended to serve them only long enough to understand them. Understand how to use their own weaknesses against them.”

“What did you really accomplish in doing that? Who did you save?” Maiev’s voice was tired, there was no hiding it. It lacked all the usual bite from the previous times she had come to see him.

“If the Sundering had not happened it would have saved many more. That blood is not on my hands.”

“No… I suppose it isn’t. But we are also assuming the Highborne could have abided by not continuing their ridiculous machinations that started all of this in the first place.” She sighed outwardly as she tore a piece of bread off and offered it to him.

“It’s more than just satyrs you’ve been fighting.” He almost sounded thoughtful before taking the bread in his mouth.

“It is none of your concern.” She tried to sound more awake and sharp but it came off as forced.

“I can help you.”

“You’re not leaving this cell.”

“I can help you from this cell.” He smirked just a little bit.

“I’m not some naïve fool as to trust you.”

“Then I’ll answer one question as a show of faith.” The smirk got just a little bigger, hidden only by chewing the next piece of bread she offered him.

“Why did you take water from the Well of Eternity?”

“The Well of Eternity was the most powerful weapon we could have wielded against the Legion going forward. The power it contained would have been more than enough to help us destroy them.”

“Destroy them going forward?”

“That’s a second question for another day.” His cockiness turned grim signaling something unsettling.

Maiev sighed again, with frustration this time. “That isn’t enough for me to trust you.” She pushed his cheeks together forcing his lips to part for the last piece of bread.

He smiled as he chewed it. “Never let your guard down, do you?”

“I can no longer afford to be complacent.” She offered him one last drink before getting up.

“Heavy is the burden of the strong to protect the weak.”

“How very ignoble of you,” she mocked as she cleaned up the tray. She muttered the same incantation again before turning to leave the cell and Illidan’s pained groans behind her.

“You need a bath and you’re getting it next time whether you want it or not.”

“Does the smell offend your delicate senses, Priestess?”

“I haven’t been able to smell anything but death in weeks.”

Illidan didn’t have a comeback for that. Instead he looked thoughtful a moment through his pain. “The Well was our greatest weapon against the Legion going forward.” He repeated what he had said earlier. “You possess something those foolish Highborne do not.”

“Oh? What might that be?” She leaned lazily against the bars while she waited for him to answer.

“A noble purpose.” There was no sarcasm in his voice. No cocky attitude. Just sincerity for the first time.

Her brows furrowed harshly and she pushed off the cell bars. “There’s nothing noble in bathing in the blood of demons and traitors every day. It’s a job that needs to be done. That’s all.” With nothing left to say that day, she left him.

After she left, he shook his head. “It is not what you do, but why you do it that is noble…” He let out a long, frustrated growl accompanying a stiff tug on the chains. “I should be the one out there fighting them… not you…” One more strong, but futile, pull and every muscle in his body relaxed on a ragged breath.

It took much less time for her to return again. As promised, she came with buckets of water and other various bathing supplies. Once they were all arranged, she sat down on the stool and got to work on his hair.

“I fail to see the point in this,” he muttered as she sat behind him cutting the binding from his ponytail.

“It’s psychological.” Maiev was clinical in her response, tiredness still creeping in her voice.

“I fail to see how making me look and smell pretty will change my attitude,” he scoffed with the same damnable smirk.

“I know. I know. You cannot fathom the horrors I have seen. I am not so easily broken,” she mocked him as she worked a brush through the ends of his hair giving it a solid yank in a particularly nasty knot. “I never said it was for you.”

“I overestimated you, priestess, to have been so easily swayed by my charms.” A teasing swagger filled his voice now but it was quickly replaced by a grunt of pain.

“I am well and truly aware of your status as Azeroth’s biggest ass,” Maiev hissed as she lodged the comb in his hair and pulled with a great deal of force. His head tilted back as a result to meet her sharp gaze. “But the others will start to doubt the threat you pose if they continue to see you in this decrepit state.” The knot untangled and his head shot forward again. “You deserve no sympathy and so you shall receive none.”

“A poor excuse.” There was something in Illidan’s voice that she had never heard before and couldn’t quite place. It was cocky as ever, and yet there seemed to be something else there.

“I told you before, didn’t I? You have no one to look forward to but me.” Her subtle way of telling him no one put her up to this was not lost on him.

Silence fell between them again as she continued to work the comb through his hair until all the knots were gone. She set to work wetting and cleaning his hair next.

“Do you have a family?” Illidan finally broke the silence as she blocked the soap and water from getting in his eyes with a hand to his forehead. He went on when she didn’t answer. “Besides your Brother.”

“No.” She ran her fingers through his hair making sure all the soap was out of it.

“Yet another thing your faith denied you.”

The cynicism in his voice elicited a sigh. “It was not forbidden, clearly. But my duties kept me too busy to pursue such frivolities.”

“Duties such as washing the hair of prisoner of war?”

“The sick and injured.” He was starting to raise her ire despite all her best efforts to not let him get to her.

“Ah yes… the grace and mercy of Elune bestown upon the faithful through the hard work of her devout priestess.”

“You would mock such experience even when it benefits you?” She grasped one of his horns and gave his head a yank to one side.

“I… did not… ask for you to do this.” Defiant as ever, he gritted his teeth to speak through the pain. The pleasantly scented soap did nothing to hide the smell of searing flesh filling the cell.

She finally released him and went back to the task at hand. She braided his hair to keep it out of the way so she could wash the rest of his body. When she stood and released the shackles on his ankles he gave her a momentary, questioning look over his shoulder. “I can leave your ankles restrained and cut those filthy rags off but then you’ll get to sit here naked for the rest of your miserable existence.”

“Is that the only reason?” Cocky Illidan was back again.

Maiev started to close the shackle around his ankle again.

“I don’t think I can stand on my own.” Illidan pointed out more seriously this time. “It has been too long.”

“Then sit on the stool.” She pulled him back on to the stool with seemingly no effort at all. As she handed him a tray of food and water, he could appreciate for the first time her physique.

“You’ve been training.” He grabbed her wrist and held her fast.

“Of course I have. You didn’t think I could wield a blade so well from lifting sacred tomes, did you?” She snapped trying to yank her arm free.

He held fast to her arm and traced one of the scars with his thumb. He seemed fixated on it for some reason. “You could have healed this easily, yet you still have it and others.”

She finally wrested her arm free and rubbed her wrist with her free hand. “They are a part of my past and so a part of me. These scars are a reminder of what is required of me. A reminder of the sacrifices I made so they will not be forgotten. A reminder of what will happen if I fail.” She turned away from him after she explained this.

Illidan touched a glowing scar on his chest lightly. “You are your scars and your scars are you.” He seemed thoughtful as he said this. His hand came back to the edge of the tray he was no staring at. “Perhaps we are not so different in that regard.”

“Perhaps not.” Maiev went back to work cleaning up her prisoner. "I suggest you eat quickly." Maiev's skilled hands cut a swath down the middle of his back. She didn't seem the least bit put off negotiating around his slumped wings. In fact, she picked one up and made quick work of cleaning it. "In a hurry to be rid of me? Where is your virtue of patience?" Though he teased her, he couldn’t deny he felt the slightest bit touch starved after so much time feeling nothing but decaying clothes, burning irons, and cold darkness. "I'm in a hurry to get you locked back up again. Besides, it'll be difficult to clean everything with a tray in your lap." She was completely nonplussed as she said it, not even hesitating as her hands wiped the last diaphanous pane of a wing. "You were serious?" "Have you known me to be anything but serious?" She moved on to the other wing. In another time, he did. Back when she was a priestess. There was a time when she could even laugh. Now he wondered if she even knew how. "I had no idea you harbored such proclivities, Priestess." Illidan cocked his head to the side as a wash cloth slid across it. The wet cloth wrapped tightly across his throat. Maiev leaned in close to one ear. "Let's be clear on one point. If I wanted to have my way with you, I could have at any time. All your suggestive comments would lead one to believe you would like me to have my way with you." "Only someone denser than a moon festival cake would assume that from my comments." He sounded almost offended as he scoffed at her assertion. "Besides... you are far too refined to handle the beast inside me." "Big talk for the chained tiger." She stood and glanced down at the tray in his lap. "And coming from the man who seems hell bent on keeping his pants on."

Illidan looked down at the tray of uneaten food. He huffed out a chuckle in the face of her challenge. “I’ve underestimated you in more ways than one, Priestess.” He took his time eating and drinking while she finished washing his other wing. Staring at her every move intently in an effort to throw her off. Without saying a word, he sat the tray aside and waited for her to crumble.

“Lean back.” It was an authoritative command.

“As you wish, priestess.” He lounged back on the stool casually, invitingly.

Maiev rolled her eyes momentarily but didn’t break eye contact for a single moment. She stared directly into the burning green lights as she bent down next to him and worked off his dirty pants and underwear. Not once did she look away while she washed his waist and legs. Especially not when she finally got around to cleaning THAT. All with an expression of absolute seriousness. When it was all said and done, she got up and dumped a whole bucket of now ice-cold water all over him.

“You almost made it.” He teased with a smirk. “You almost convinced me you could keep this professional.”

“If I didn’t think you needed to cool down, I wouldn’t have a reason to do that.” She crossed her arms over her chest in triumph as the bucket dangled suspiciously over his crotch.

“A physical reaction to stimuli is hardly cause for celebration.” He picked the bucket up and sat it aside leaving no further way for her to avoid seeing him in all his glory, or lack thereof, as the case may be.

Her eyebrow quirked momentarily, but otherwise she bore no outward reaction to the sight. Instead she looked away quickly to pick up the change of clothes she brought. A strange noise behind her made her turn quickly. Illidan had managed to stand and was using his wings to maintain balance on unsteady legs. But he had his back turned to her.

“Suddenly feeling embarrassed?” It was a tease more than anything.

“You said you had no family. Not that you didn’t want one.” He was uncharacteristically serious. “One day you may have one and I wouldn’t want to ruin that for you…”

For a moment she thought he was trying to say something, trying to make her understand something more. Then she remembered this was the Betrayer and he was trying to play mind games with her. Every word carefully crafted and deliberate to get her to let her guard down. After realizing that, she started to laugh. It wasn’t the same laugh he remembered, but it was a laugh nonetheless. It sent a wave over his very being almost like happiness.

“One steamy night of passion with the Betrayer and I’ll be ruined for life? Is that what you’re getting at? The evidence would suggest you are in far more need of me than I am of you.” She threw a long tunic over his head, one that laced together at the sides to accommodate his wings.

He grabbed her wrist again when she came to the side to tie one set of laces. He looked down at the scars that riddled her arm again. “You deserve to be someone’s first thought, not enjoyed for a moment then lost to eternity.” He slowly released her arm. “I haven’t been capable of giving anyone my first thought in a very long time.”

“What are you trying to say?” She cocked an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

“Nothing… nevermind…” He let go of her arm completely and stared straight ahead. “I grow tired of this game, Warden. And time is not on our side. Do what it is you came here to do and leave.”

Maiev was thrown by this sudden change in attitude but didn’t let it deter her from the task at hand. Without any further distractions, she was able to reclothe Illidan quickly. He kneeled down again and allowed her to clasp the shackles without a struggle. Before leaving, Maiev uttered a different incantation this time. The chains rattled violently as they changed configuration to force Illidan to stand. Chains crisscrossed his torso, arms and legs. Now chained to the wall he had to use his legs or face the burning blessings cutting into his whole body. He growled louder than usual to suppress his pain this time. It wasn’t clear if it was from his unused legs revolting or the new blessing.

This was the rhythm of Illidan’s life in the Warden’s prison. Long periods of darkness punctuated by Maiev’s succinct deliveries and reinforcing the bindings on him. More often than not, they said nothing. Every once in a while, she would be in a mood to talk about things other than extracting a confession from him.

On one such occasion, his hands were shaking from atrophy as they had been secured behind his back for some time. The bowl of soup slipped from his hands and splashed all over his face and hair. Something about the scene caused Maiev to crack just a fraction. She couldn’t help the slight smile on her face. Seeing it made Illidan smile a bit.

“Is my plight amusing to you, Warden?” There was a playfulness to his voice where there would have been harshness otherwise.

“I suppose it…” A piece of potato that had been stuck in his hair suddenly dropped back into the bowl sending more soup flying into the air. Maiev tried to hide her smile and laughter behind her hand.

“Yes, take joy in the suffering of your prisoner. You will pay for this transgression in time, Warden.” Though Illidan made a big show of the threat, it felt more than somewhat hollow.

Maiev cleared her throat and tried to put her serious mask back on. It was still smiling a just a little. “I’ll bring something to clean that up.” She left the cell and Illidan could hear laughter echoing off the stone halls just before the barrier closed.

If it had been anyone else seeing him like this, let alone laughing at him over it, he would have been mad. “It’s your fault I have grown incapable of even the most childish of tasks as feeding myself!” He would growl at them with fierce eyes. But for some reason, he was rather pleased to have seen that smile for the first time in so many years.

“I had forgotten how beautiful she is when she smiles.” He muttered a loud to him himself. “She always did rival Tyrande in her own way… To see her like this now.” He lifted his face towards the ceiling. “I had hoped to save more…” His fingers wrapped around the chains at his wrists until his knuckles turned white. He yanked at them as hard as he could, arms trembling under the force he was suddenly exerting on them. His efforts yielded no results. “I will escape this accursed prison and I will finish what I started. Complacency is no longer an option…” He brought his head down and stared at his reddened wrists.

The bars opening again did not draw his attention. He didn’t stir as Maiev started to clean the soup off his face until she reached for the tie to his blindfold. “Do not touch it.” He grabbed her wrists as he growled out the warning.

“It’s disgusting. Thousands of years with the same piece of cloth over your eyes.”

“It is for your protection.” His hands tightened around her wrists.

“Then close your eyes.” She started working the blindfold again. “I… I can’t kill you, you know. Tyrande and Malfurion would likely remove me as leader of the Watchers if I did.” The last bit felt like it had been added as an afterthought.

He heaved out a sigh as his hands slowly, hesitantly slackened. Eventually, he let out another tight breath before his shoulders relaxed. The green light that once seeped through the blindfold disappeared and she knew it was safe to proceed.

“I have seen everything more times than I can count and the one thing you can’t stand for me to see is your eyes. Is that because of the abomination you’ve become?” She removed the blindfold and tossed it aside. She ran the wash cloth over his face and into his hair gently.

“All power comes at a price. One I have paid is to see many things you could not even begin to fathom. Things that would drive weaker beings mad.”

“Are you suggesting I’m weak?” She couldn’t help but challenge him at the merest suggestion he was stronger than her.

“You would survive the visions of that I have no doubt.” He took her hand when she got too close to his eyes. “But you have already lost enough in this life. I would not presume to take more from you.”

“How very noble…” She scoffed as she turned for a new piece of cloth to put over his eyes.

“This is…”

“It was a scrap the tailor had left over. Don’t think too much of it. Silk is more durable anyways and will stand up better to the conditions in here.” She retreated after the explanation so she could hand him another bowl of soup. “Try not to wear it this time.”

He chuckled and smirked as he pondered how much of her explanation was truth and how much was a cover. He didn’t say anything though. Once he finished eating, she took everything aside and prepared to leave.

“This cell cannot hold me forever. I will escape and continue my work.” It was a declaration, gravity etched into every word.

“If that ever happens, I will hunt you down and bring you back here. As many times as it takes for you to see justice for what you have done.” Also a declaration.

“It is unwise to make promises you cannot keep.” A ghost of a smirk.

“How many times have you said you’ve underestimated me?”

Illidan’s smirk grew a fraction wider. “Thank you for the bath.”

He couldn’t deny he looked forward to her irregular visits. Especially taunting her during bath days. But she became increasingly less fun as the years wore on. He watched as her once vibrantly colored hair and bright eyes faded. A tinge of regret wheedled into the back of his mind that she had to keep fighting and caring for him. She could just as easily torture him for the information she wanted. Yet, she had not. That was the puzzle he kept coming back to over and over again. If she truly was the dark side of the moon, to Tyrande’s brilliance, surely she would not be above torture. Had she been forbidden from its use?

He had plenty of time to think about that later. It was time to focus on his mission and how to escape the prison again. One thing at a time. First the blessing, then the chains, then the magic barrier. Then… her. He surmised Maiev would be the most powerful deterrent of them all. As well she should be. Death wasn’t an option, but perhaps he could fight his way out. The sense of urgency within him grew stronger each day as he felt tendrils of darkness seep into the very earth beneath him. He started to formulate the thousandth plan, the millionth contingency, when Maiev appeared before him. She stood tall as ever, but there was no hiding the blood-soaked bandages all over her body.

“You are… injured…” He sounded genuinely surprised. It was clear she had just freshly bathed. Hair loosely tied and still dripping onto the linen shirt made the many bandages underneath even more apparent.

“It is no concern to you.”

“You wreak of demons.” He growled.

“All your friends are dead.” She replied flatly as she sat the tray down. Today he had his hands bound behind his back as he sat crossed legged on the floor. She released his hands so he could feed himself and made to retreat to her stool by the door.

“I would not starve to death in a day or two.” He grabbed her arm before she could leave and pressed his other hand to a seeping wound on her arm. Felfire danced from his fingers incinerating the bandage and cauterizing the wound.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Maiev growled painfully between clenched teeth as she wrenched her arm away. The act a painful reminder that he was dangerous and she always needed to be on guard. Her hand reached instinctively to the dagger she always wore hidden on her person. For a moment she chastised herself for being so foolish as to come here in her current state.

“An open wound is apt to fester.” Illidan’s flippant response was accompanied by a slight shrug before he started eating.

“How long has it been now?” She sighed as she stared up at the ceiling while clutching her burnt arm. “Still you refuse to answer any real questions.” Maiev tiredly let her inward thoughts spill from her lips. Feeble rays of light radiated from her palm to heal the wound.

“You would have a much better idea of that than I. There are no days or nights down here.” A casual enough response but the bitterness couldn’t be ignored.

“Several thousand years of this same song and dance has grown quite bothersome.” The bars rattled gently as she settled against them.

“Then change the cadence.” Illidan smirked up at her for the first time in centuries.

It was more attitude than the weary warden could handle. She vaulted from the stool and threw a fist into the stone wall right next to his head. The impact splintered off a piece of rock and sent it shearing into the hair that exploded from its binding. A few cut strands wafted slowly on to Illidan’s hand.

“JUST TELL ME WHY YOU DID IT! Why did you steal water from the Well and open up the possibility of them coming back?! Just what did you hope to do?!” There was a wild desperation in her voice as if the last strands of her patience, or sanity, were about to snap.

Though she had nearly hit him and screamed in his face, Illidan looked completely unfazed. But the smirk on his face drifted to something listless.

“Have you ever loved something so much you would give up everything, even your very soul, to protect it?” Illidan’s question was sincere in tone, his face a vision of seriousness.

Maiev’s eyes shifted back and forth rapidly as they searched his face for the meaning behind the question. Unable to determine it, she answered truthfully. “I would die to protect my people.”

“That’s not the same.” The chains rattled softly as he pushed a hand against her cheek. “You have given so much of yourself to everyone else are you even capable of loving as deeply as…?”

Maiev’s eyes narrowed as Illidan trailed off. She wrenched his hand away and slammed it into the wall. “You cannot hide what is already well known. And your pretty lies won’t work on me. You said it yourself centuries ago, you haven’t been able to give someone your first thought in a very long time.” She pushed herself back and slowly stepped away, never taking her eyes off him.

He just shook his head and looked back to the tray. “I also seem to remember telling you your narrow sense of virtue and justice could never hope to understand my motives.”

“I can’t even begin to understand them if you never tell me!” She roared with her whole body before grabbing the now loose hair at her temples. “All you seem to allude to is that you did it for love. I call saber shit on that.” She pulled on the hair for a moment then abruptly pulled her fingers free of the strands.

“Even though it’s been thousands of years, you still don’t seem to realize we are two sides of the same coin.” Illidan’s low voice harbored no cockiness. Only straight forward truth.

“I AM NOTHING LIKE YOU!” Maiev roared with her whole body again this time punching the wall adjacent to the one Illidan was chained.

“We both gave up all the comfortable and good things in our lives to fight an endless war.” He gestured to the cell. “We sacrificed our bodies, a very piece of ourselves.” He gestured to his eyes. “We gave up on old paths to pursue ones that would better serve us in our battles ahead.” He tapped his arm where the wound he cauterized on her sat. An indication that he understood she was growing incapable of using the Light to heal herself. To say he knew she had been away from the Sisterhood too long to remember its lessons. “We both chase after an illusory dream to lengths others cannot understand. But we do so with complete conviction in ourselves.” He pulled the blindfold from his eyes of his own accord for the first time since he had been imprisoned though he kept his eyes closed to shield Maiev from the dangers that lurked in their depths. “And it would seem... we both gave up any hope of happiness in this life.”

Maiev’s hands fell heavily at her side. Her weight grew too much for her tired legs to hold. She sank slowly down with her forehead to the rock wall she had just maimed. She breathed in the stagnant air of the cell on heaving breaths.

“You wasted so much time and strength running from this truth. But the moment you stepped into the shadows you stepped closer and closer to it.” There was a soothing quality to his voice as the chains rattled gently. “But there is one crucial thing that separates us.”

Maiev twisted her head to look at him from behind a veil of hair. Her heavy breaths caused one section to move in and out in time. “I can think of plenty, but what did you have in mind, Betrayer?”

“The only person you were willing to sacrifice for your noble cause was yourself.” Illidan gave her a pressed smile as his head tilted to look at her better.

Maiev’s eyes narrowed slightly as the acknowledgement of his confession settled over her slowly. “Then you admit your sin of using the lives of innocents to further your goal?”

“I will not apologize for what I did.”

She rolled her eyes at the expected response. “Why are you suddenly so forthcoming with information?”

“Because I have been thinking about you a great deal lately, Maiev. Let me go so I can help you put an end to all of this.” Illidan reached out and brushed the hair out of her face.

For a moment the way he said her name and not some teasing title made her feel… something. But it was short lived as the voice in the back of her mind screamed danger. “Do not toy with me, Betrayer.” The dagger she kept hidden found its way to his throat. She muttered an incantation and Illidan’s body was sucked back against the wall. It sent the tray clattering leaving the remaining contents splattered on the floor. “I know… I know the only thought on your mind is how to escape this place.” She approached him on slow, purposeful steps. “And the only name in your heart is Tyrande Whisperwind.”

“It is true, I will never love someone else as much as I love Tyrande. But…” He pulled against the chains with all his strength. They seared into his flesh twisting his face in pain but he still didn’t relent.

“There are no buts with you, Betrayer. You lost the right for me to trust you millennia ago and I will not ever trust you again.” She shook her head as if she was trying to convince herself of the words. “Struggle all you want, all you’ll do is hurt yourself.” She set out about cleaning up the dishes off the floor.

“Your hair at least…” Illidan finally relented and stopped pulling again the restraints. “Let me fix it for you.”

“You?” Her eyebrow quirked up slowly. “You know how?”

“I do not profess to have the skills of Azshara’s handmaidens but I can braid hair.” He dangled the blindfold in one hand.

“The what about your eyes?” She sounded unsure, but not unwilling.

“You can bring it back to me next time.” He drew a sly smile, despite the burns on his body.

Maiev let out a long sigh. “It would do me no favors for my subordinates to see me like this.”

“As a leader you should inspire confidence. An unkempt appearance would sow doubts,” he offered encouragingly as he swayed the blindfold again. When Maiev didn’t answer or make any move he frowned and sighed. “You let yourself very open multiple times. Did I ever make a move to hurt you?”

“Yes. Just a few minutes ago.”

“That wound was bleeding far too much.” That was true at least.

Maiev sighed again and walked over to him, dagger in hand. “I will know if you try anything suspicious.” She gave a word and the chains loosened. “Can you stand?”

“So considerate. Yes, I can stand.” He gave her a coy smile.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” Finally, she turned around. “You can open your eyes.”

#world of warcraft #warcraft fanfic #maiev shadowsong #illidan stormrage #enemies to lovers #slow burn #denial of feelings #angst #solitary confinement #nudity #bathing/washing #hand feeding #power dynamics #emotional hurt/comfort

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theangriestpea · 4 years

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In the Shadows : Five

Summary: Jughead Jones, resident werewolf, just wants to protect his family and his pack from the incoming doom of The Red Circle. Sweet Pea and Lily join him to help keep the Southside safe from human tyranny. Meanwhile a demon princess named Myra and succubus named Lavender had a plan to bring on the apocalypse. <ao3> <masterlist> <playlist>

Rating: Mature // Explicit

Pairings: Jughead Jones x OC, Sweet Pea x OC, Kurtz x OC

Warnings: Smut, Mentions of forced pregnancy, Rough sex, Hair pulling, Intense choking, Fingering, Oral, Anal, Degradation/Humiliation, Dirty talk??? , NO AFTERCARE

Word Count: 6.3k+

A/N: This chapter has a very serious warning. At the end there is a very graphic and violent, CONSENSUAL sex scene. If you are not comfortable reading about rough, violent sex then you might want to skip it because it gets a little brutal imo. If you're not in a good headspace for that, then please come back and read at a time when you are.

Part Five: Alone

A few quiet days passed. Lavender spent her days lounging with Charlie, enjoying the fighter’s company more than loneliness. During the night was when Lav hunted as Charlie could only see her partner after the sun had set. Charlie’s relationship was open and Lav’s was nonexistent.

As it turned out, Charlie was the newest member to the Jones pack. She had been an outsider from Greendale that escaped a desperate situation to what she thought would be safe in Riverdale. Once she arrived and found the plague that was The Red Circle, she realized that she had been gravely mistaken.

However, having a strong pack to back her up and support her was better than the broken home she had been barely surviving in. She also struggled with loneliness and did not quite fit in with her packmates yet. Despite her fierce loyalty to the Joneses for taking her in, it was said that she had yet to prove herself.

She was a champion in the ring. Charlie had never lost a fair fight. In Greendale she was forced to fight for scraps. She excelled and it was used to bind her into servitude. Now it was her greatest strength as it earned her enough respect on the Southside to not get messed with. Everyone knew there was a bite to back up her loud bark.

Seeing their blossoming friendship, Jughead decided to give Charlie a job to do. He wanted her to keep an eye on the succubus for the time being to make sure that she was trustworthy. The only reason he had to distrust her was that it was the very nature of a demon to be dishonest and conniving.

There was still two weeks until the next full moon and Jughead wanted everyone to meet together. Lavender was dreading this as it meant she’d have to see her baby daddy. While she wasn’t showing yet and didn’t really have any symptoms of pregnancy, she had a feeling he would know. Most likely because of Jughead’s big fucking mouth.

But she could always deny that it was his. She pondered this and eventually found that it would be the most beneficial tactic for her. The last thing she wanted was there to be strings attached to her in any way. Her forced commitment to Myra was bad enough. Her fling with Charlie was hardly anything more than friends with benefits.

Jughead had not probed any further about who the father was. Though he routinely asked her how she was doing in regards to pregnancy. Lav kept telling him that her human symptoms weren’t bound to start for another two weeks or so while her demonic ones were already in full swing. Never in her entire demonic life had she been so hungry, so insatiable that she thought she might go insane.

Myra even brought her supplemented souls to feed her. She could always tell when the succubus was starving. The demoness asked Lav why she didn’t take Charlie’s soul as often it was during the day that she needed more sustenance. Lav always dodged the question.

Presently the demon was on the back of Jug’s motorcycle as he drove through a large beaten path in the woods to the cottage where the witches lived. Her grip was tight but she was not nearly as pressed against him as she had been against Sweet Pea that fateful night. Her clothing choice was also a bit more modest since she knew there would be a toddler present.

The wolf had to assure Lily that Lav would not harm her child. It took a few lengthy conversations before the white witch that smelled of sunshine finally gave in. He pulled up into the smooth driveway and parked as Lav hopped off and threaded her fingers through her messy hair.

Jughead swung his leg around and stood as Lily came out to greet them. Lav watched her with curious eyes as she seemed to beam at the werewolf. She wondered what had happened the night he saved her from Kurtz when he took her home.

It was clear to Lavender that he was enamored with her and she suspected that Lily felt the same for him. It was cute in some way. Their energy was radiant when they were close to one another. She even suspected that they might be soulmates. It was incredibly difficult to take the soul of someone who had met their cosmic match. She always avoided those who gave off that aura.

Then, Lily looked at Lav with distrust. “Come on, Sweet Pea is already inside.”: The witch’s eyes flickered to the demon’s stomach that showed no sign of a child growing within. She shook her head before turning and walking back into the small home.

The succubus said nothing as she kept a blank look on her face. Once inside she noticed that all of their gazes were trained on her, specifically her abdomen. She put a hand on her hip, “if you have something to say, then say it.”

Sweet Pea was enraged with her, feeling as if she had deceived him. If he had known she could get pregnant then he would have worn a god damn condom. His anger was boiling, threatening to bubble over. The only thing that stopped him was the thought that if either of them were dead then those that remained alive wouldn’t have the necessary power to protect Daisy. Daisy was the only thing keeping him sane.

“You’re pregnant.” Lily said in a tone that showed just how much faith she currently had in their newest partner. It was very little. “Were you pregnant before you stole his soul or was that part of the packaged deal?”

Lav felt like she didn’t have to explain herself to mortals. Not when they were being this aggressive towards her. She kept her feelings calm. Any alarm would summon Myra or worse, Kurtz. That was the last thing she needed right now. She truly did want to help Jughead as the Southside had quickly become her new home.

“Before.” She lied, wanting to ease the tension. “I killed the father and ate him like any good demon would do.” It was so easy to let the deceit roll off her tongue. So easy to just pretend that she wasn’t in this complicated situation.

The air seemed to have left the room as all three of the others sighed with great relief. She felt herself irked that the thought of Sweet Pea being the father was such a bad idea that it caused them that much distress. Clearly she could never let the truth be known. It almost hurt her. But then, she never expected him to be in her daughter’s life in the first place.

“I don’t understand all of this hostility after I saved you for the vargulf the other night.” The succubus said, displaying her annoyance openly now.

Lily’s face dropped while Sweet Pea looked completely confused. “You saved her? When?!” He was snapping at the both of them. Neither woman appreciated it.

“When the vargulf attacked her. You didn’t think you got him off of you all by yourself, did you, little witch? Your magic was so weak that night that you couldn’t stop him from bruising your throat, don’t think I can’t see it under your charms. It was right in front of my trailer. I flung him off you and pinned him down. Jughead took you back to his home before I let him go again.” She hadn’t planned on ever admitting this but obviously earning their trust was something she was going to have to do.

“I could have let him tear you apart,” She continued, “because he would have had I not intervened. Jughead wouldn’t have been able to save you without getting himself killed in the process. My child has nothing to do with any of you.”

Jughead’s eyes softened. He had questions about what had happened that night himself, but didn’t think that it had been his neighbor who had saved his crush. The distrust in him was quickly fading. He did have one very important question though, whether or not she would answer him he did not know.

“I don’t understand, why did you save me?” Lily asked, her own voice light now instead of harsh. “He would have killed me. You are right, I wasn’t strong enough that night. My head was in a bad place for magic.” Her gratefulness was overcoming her doubt. This demon was the reason she could still hold her little girl every day. The reason she could still hold Jughead….A blush quickly crossed her cheeks but she hid it well.

Lav shook her head. The real reason was that Lily was important to Sweet Pea and he was important to her. She didn’t know why the prick was important but more often than not she believed that Charlie was just a distracting substitute for him. They did have some frank similarities that she really couldn’t ignore.

All eyes were still on her. She shifted uncomfortably. Normally she felt quite starved for attention but this was too much to take it at once. “You have a young daughter. I know what it’s like to grow up without a mother. I do not wish that on anyone.” She said, telling a half truth this time.

The white witch seemed to connect with her on a deeper level then. She was abandoned at a young age by her own mother so she also knew what it was like. “Thank you.” She said with great sincerity. “I truly appreciate it. If there’s anything I can...we can do to repay you, then let us know.”

“We? She took my soul! It was the least she could do to save your ass!” Sweet Pea said loudly in a voice edged with fury for being volunteered.

“Because you’d be lost as a single parent, Sweet Pea.” Lily replied harshly. “You’re a good dad but you couldn’t do it all by yourself and you know it.”

He backed down a small bit, knowing what she was saying was ultimately true. He couldn’t do it by himself and he didn’t have any disillusion that he could. “Fine.” He bit back, clearly not happy. “If she’d like another orgasm, I’ll happily give her one.”

Jughead couldn’t help but roll his eyes before sitting down on the couch. Lavender just stared at him with the same blank expression as before. “Believe it or not, witch, your dick is not the gods’ gift to womankind. If I want an orgasm then I already have someone in my care who will gladly oblige and I can assure that her head is much better than yours.”

His neck turned red with rage, eyes aflame despite the immediate arousal he felt from the mental image of her with another woman. One seemed to be fueling the other. “No girl can fuck like I can.”

“I suppose you’re right. Women don’t just pound into you until you have a mediocre climax. So no, she can’t fuck exactly like you can. She’s much, much better.” Lav said, a smirk on her burgundy lips now with pride in the fact that she knew she would win this argument, even if she was lying.

Lily was standing there awkwardly, not knowing exactly what to say. She only had experience with sex with one person and that was Sweet Pea. She was unsure what it was like with other people. Her eyes darted to Jughead as the thought ran through her as to what he would be like between the sheets. Her cheeks were instantly pink again.

Jughead saw her looking at him and smiled before motioning for her to take a seat. She returned the smile before sitting down beside him. Close but not too close. Sweet Pea noticed this and frowned, jealousy twinging in his empty heart. He huffed and sat down in his old tattered recliner, crossing his large arms across his chest in a masculine pout.

“So, you’re asking for my help because you need another boost of power.” Lav said, successfully changing the subject. “I’m not concerned with my levels or Sweet Pea’s as having no soul means there’s no longer a barrier on how much he can hold. Sex with a demon will give you more than one witch can possibly handle. I’m sure you’ve noticed his lack of control.” Lily nodded, she had noticed but she hadn’t said anything. Sweet Pea scoffed, wanting to protest but decided not to.

Lav took a seat in a nearby chair, crossing her legs clothed in tight black denim pants. “Which is fine for what we’re doing, but a bigger concern of mine is that your level is relatively low, Lily.” She looked at her, hazel and green eyes meeting. “Not to say that you don’t have great magical strength, because I sense that you are quite powerful in white magic. Protection and healing mainly. Which is why you will need to lead the spell and why you need to be stronger. I suggest you have sex. Anyone will do. I will gladly have sex with you if you want, I love taking beautiful women to bed. Although, I understand if you do not want to partake in the risk.”

Lily was quiet, her entire face red. Sweet Pea was smirking, “Lily, I’d happily show you another good time. For old time’s sake?”

Her eyes cut and narrowed at him, “no thank you, Pea. And no thank you, Lavender. I’ll handle it on my own.”

Lav shrugged, not offended in the slightest. She wouldn’t have taken Lily’s soul but she knew that Lily did not trust her enough yet to understand that. Her cutting Sweet Pea down was extremely entertaining as the male witch’s face went from smug to enraged. If she didn’t know any better than she thought there may have been some hurt in between.

Jughead cleared his throat, wanting to throw his name into the hat but also not being confident enough to quite do that. “We have a few weeks before that’s necessary, I think. Fourteen more nights until the next full moon. What else will we need?”

“I have all the other ingredients, Jug.” Lily said with a confident smile, “As long as everyone is at their best then this will work. We just have to make sure everyone is inside the woods or some other safe place during that night.”

The wolf’s eyes moved to Lavender, his question from earlier finally coming to fruition. “Why didn’t you kill the vargulf the other night? You had the chance but you let him go.”

Lavender shifted, pretending to be simply adjusting herself to be more comfortable. In actuality she had been nervous of this being asked. Did she tell them the truth or simply add more to her ever growing web of lies? “It would be against the orders from my master.” Was the best way she could put it.

“Master?” Jughead asked, eyebrows rising at the word. “You have a master?”

The purple haired hybrid sighed. This was not something she ever liked admitting to anyone. “I am indebted to someone. Another demon. She has a hold on me.” She pointed at the faint pentacle on her pulse point of her neck, “She has marked me. And she is the one that I warned you about. She forced me to become pregnant to use my child. If anything were to happen to me or it. She would literally raise hell.”

They all fell silent. The pause was nearly as pregnant as Lavender was. This was more embarrassing for her than not. Admitting she didn’t have much free will was not something any demon wanted to talk about….ever.

Lily looked at her with a doleful expression. “She forced you? She’s going to take them after you have it? Will you ever see them again?”

Lavender did not want to think about that. Her attachment to the growing fetus was getting stronger each day. The thought of Myra taking her daughter from her filled her with despair. She attempted to hide it, and perhaps the two boys didn’t notice, but Lily sure did. After all, she was a mother herself. She knew .

“Yes. She made me drink a potion that made me fertile enough for conception to be possible. My daughter will not belong to me when she is born. As I do not even belong to myself…” The last part came out more sadly that she had meant it to. Even Sweet Pea felt a small spark of sorrow for the demon. It quickly faded and was never thought of again.

Jug bit the inside of his cheek, “I know we made an agreement before about payment, but what if we help you keep your child and gain your freedom? Would you want that?” Lily nodded her head eagerly, wanting nothing more than to keep mother and child together.

The succubus did not like the sound of this. “She will kill you for even thinking that, Jughead Jones. Do not ever say that aloud again. I will not even consider it.” She snapped harshly, her voice extremely stern. “When she is born, my master will take her and will do whatever she so desires. Are we clear? You are not to help me in this matter in any way.”

The wolf sighed, his determination squashed for the time being. “Alright. I won’t. You said daughter? You’re having a girl?”

Lav smiled, taking a small exhale of relief, “yes. I’m destined to have a girl.”

One witch practically squealed with excitement while the other looked bored to tears. Lily was about to say how much fun girls were, but then stopped herself. Lav would probably never know. She nearly started to cry from the rush of despair.

“If that’s all for now.” Lavender said, standing up, “I need to leave. I have an appointment. You have my number.”

Jughead stood, “let me drive you home. I’ll text you later, Lils.” He shot the little witch a toothy grin and a wink before turning to leave with the demon. Sweet Pea’s eyes were but slits as he examined the blush on Lily’s face at the pet name. This was not good. This was not good at all .

Later that night, Lavender and Charlie were visiting the Whyte Wyrm. This was not entirely usual for them as they normally went separate ways after sundown. It just so happened that tonight they had the same destination. Lav needed to feed but Myra had given her a soul late that afternoon. She would be fine for several more hours.

She was at the bar, wearing a black mini dress and stiletto heels. She stirred her Shirley Temple slowly. The red of the grenadine swirling around in the ginger ale. She still had a cheery bobbing on top of the ice.

A familiarly large figure sat down next to her and ordered a beer from the pink haired demon slayer. His dark eyes looked at the demoness through a sideways glance. He eyed her form, the fabric of the dress was skin tight. Again she left nothing to the imagination and he believed she must be there hunting.

“Why did you lie earlier?” He asked as a fresh bottle of beer was set in front of him. He nodded a thank you to the slayer before taking a sip.

Her spine went rigid, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The warlock made a sound of annoyance, something between a scoff and a huff.

“The night we met you were drinking alcohol.” He said. “You said you were pregnant before we were together but now you’re drinking a virgin cocktail. Tell me the fucking truth, am I the father?”

His tone was extremely dangerous and she was worried what a fight with him would cause. It wasn’t often that Lavender feared for her safety, but the mere thought had Myra suddenly appeared in the back of the room, eyeing the situation. The demon princess was quiet and hiding in the shadows. Only Lavender could feel her presence.

“You are.” She confessed. “I thought I’d spare you the trouble of another child.”

There was a dull ache in Sweet Pea’s chest. The fact he was having another kid on top of the fact that he’d never get to see her. He thought he was a boiling kettle about to scream instead of whistle. Lavender forced her nerves to quiet as to not raise attention to herself. “So you thought that I shouldn't know that you’re having my kid? And you’re not even keeping her?!”

“It’s not my choice.” Lavender hissed angrily, her eyes turning black for a moment. “I would not even be in the situation if I had any choice, don’t you fucking understand that?”

The dark witch backed down at the sound of pain in her voice. She thought she had hidden it with anger, but not well enough. Not for him. He knew the feeling all too well. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Lav’s head turned to look at the stage. Charlie was dancing provocatively on it, showing off to her lover. “She’s with her boyfriend tonight. She wanted a nice ride.”

“So she needs dick but you don’t?” He asked, eyes flashing dangerously as he turned to face her completely.

The succubus shrugged, “dick is abundant and incredibly low in value, witch. When a woman wants it, she simply needs to ask for it. That’s it. Me? I don’t even have to ask. I just have think about it.” She proved her point by flushing the room with her hormones. Almost everyone’s attention then tuned in on her and she smiled with triumph.

Sweet Pea felt the pull stronger than everyone else due to his close proximity. His cock started to harden and he had to bite his tongue for a moment to control himself. He leaned in to whisper to her, voice low. “You won’t be so cocky when I’m making you scream.”

A thrill ran through her and Lavender was almost disgusted with herself. One minute he was borderline scaring her and the next he was trying to seduce her. She felt herself getting whiplash. Myra backed off, understanding that this was some weird courtship ritual she did not understand and that her sex demon was not in any actual duress.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Lav asked, eyebrow quirked with a matching expression of a curious cat. “Because if I remember correctly, it’s an awful long drive back to Fox Forrest. I don’t think you can hold out that long.”

She put a manicured hand on his knee, thumb rubbing in small circles as she let her influence seep into him. His arousal surged almost painfully through him as he grit his teeth. He didn’t like anyone having this kind of effect on him, much less a demon.

“You don’t deserve to sleep in my bed again, not after what you’ve done.” He said darkly. Her smooth skin was suddenly replaced with gooseflesh. She bit into her lower lip so that she was pouting at him, pretending that what he was saying wasn’t fair when in all honesty it was.

“No?” She countered before taking a sip of her drink and setting it back down. “Then where do you suggest, daddy?” She cooed to him so that only he could hear her voice. “Did Lily ever call you that? Or was she too innocent to let you do the things you really love to do?”

Sweet Pea stiffened. Lily didn’t have much experience with sex so he had to be more...generic than he would have liked. They could have worked up to the kinkier stuff if things had worked out. He wondered if they ever would...Certainly not with the way she was pining over Jughead.

His heart sank for a moment before turning icy. “No.” He replied flatly, “She was boring as shit.”

Lavender giggled, hand creeping up his thigh. She squeezed playfully. “You don’t ever have to hold back with me, Pea. I can take it.”

He stood up abruptly and grabbed her wrist with a bruising grip. As he yanked her past the spot Myra had been spying in, she noticed that the demon princess was gone. Lav let out a sigh of relief, not wanting Myra to witness what was about to go down. She was certain to disapprove.

The demon slayer, Toni, yelled something at Sweet Pea as he stormed past her with his demon in tow. The witch ignored her as he went into the supply closet, forcing Lav inside before slamming the door and locking it from the inside.

He spun her around and grabbed a fist full of hair as he leaned down and kissed her lips so hard that it was almost painful. He forced her against the door, pinning her there as his knee went between her legs. He pulled away abruptly, panting with heated anger. “You think you can come into my town and talk to me this way? Talk about how much you don’t need my dick when I know you’re dripping already from the thought of it?”

He reached down, yanking her dress up and grabbing her crotch to prove his point. She was wet, her lacy panties practically soaked. No one in existence had ever turned her on the way he had. It made her full of want and she absolutely hated him for it. She found herself wishing he was dead.

Life would be much simpler if he was gone.

Sweet Pea wasted no time in ripping off her underwear. The fabric was so thin that it was as simple as opening a can of beer. She kept her weight against the door, unable to speak, fearing for what needy whine might come out of her mouth. Christ, all she wanted in this moment was for him to be inside of her.

His finger was within her core in an instant, “does your master have your tongue too?” He hissed at her before biting her earlobe. “Or can you not concentrate when I’m fingering you? Oh baby girl, you have no idea what you’ve started. I don’t care if you’re pregnant with my kid. I don’t care if you were ordered to take my soul. I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

She knew this was his darkness talking. If he had a soul then she imagined he’d care a little more. However, this wouldn’t be nearly as fun. Her breaths were staccato puffs through her nose as she held onto his denim vest. Her only response was the moan she let out when he added a second finger and started pumping at an insanely fast pace. She could feel the ring around it’s base against her walls.

“That’s it, take my fingers like the whore that you are.” He growled at her, “You just couldn’t wait to get me alone again, could you? You talk such a big game about how you don’t need my cock but as soon as I make the proposition you fall right into my lap. I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

He bit at her neck next as she pulled him closer to her. She couldn’t help the sounds that started to come out of her. Small whines of pleasure as she felt herself climbing higher. Release was imminent and it felt so damn good. The succubus was somehow at a loss for words. Mostly because he had a valid point that sent her into a pit of self loathing. He did have some bizarre effect on her and it was possibly the worst thing to have ever happened to her yet.

A third finger went in and her head lulled onto his shoulder pitifully. She could feel him using magic to enhance her pleasure. It was a dirty cheat. A trick she often used herself but she had never had it used on her . She grabbed at the hair on the nape of his neck, desperate to inflict some kind of pain. She tugged the locks twirled around her fingers aggressively. “You’re….fighting...dirty…” She managed to say between whimpers. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut.

“Telling me the big bad sex demon can’t even take my fingers?” He asked condescendingly. “Are you going to come already? What a fucking slut.”

She pulled his hair again but it had little to no effect on him. He was winning and she could try to grapple for control but the battle was lost and deep down she knew that. By bringing up Lily she had crossed a line that she shouldn’t have crossed and now he was going to make her pay dearly for it.

Lav clenched her teeth together tightly to keep from crying out as her climax was in fact building rather rapidly. His pace seemed inhuman. She’d never lost herself during just foreplay before. This was so humiliating... and she liked it.

“You’re going to come on my fingers and then I’m going to shove them down your throat.” His thumb brushed against her clit for a split second but it was enough to send her crashing over the edge. Volume control was thrown to the wind as she moaned loud enough for Toni outside to hear. The door was rattling on its hinges and she was sure it would break when he finally fucked her.

Sweet Pea did not let her ride it out. He yanked his digits out and just as he said, they were forced into her open mouth. She sucked on them hard, eyes rolling back as she felt like she could no longer stand. He held her up by pinning her hips with his own.

He gagged her with the pads of his fingers and she could feel the anger rolling off of his touch. The witch was full of it. Her lies. Her deception. Her taking his child from him despite the fact that he wasn’t sure if he even wanted it. Not having a choice in being in his second daughter’s life had him so full of rage that he could barely see straight. He was determined to take it all out of her because this was entirely her doing in his eyes. Master or not. Certainly she still had free will. She was a demon after all.

“If you think I’m done with you, slut, then you have another thing coming. Get on your fucking knees.” He released his grip from her, pulling away so that she fell forward, landing onto her knees so hard that pain shook her patellae. Lav cursed under her breath, enjoying this more than she knew she ought to.

He unbuckled his belt and tore it off of him before wrapping it around her throat, threading the end through the buckle and tightening it under she gasped for air. He kept it in one hand while he unbuttoned his pants with the other. He shoved his pants and underwear down so that his cock flopped out, hard and ready. He’d choke her with it too and she’d fucking like it.

Lavender opened her mouth without him even forcing her to. Her gaze was eager and he found himself almost wishing she wasn’t such a willing participant in his torture. He grabbed her hair with his now free hand and knotted it into his fist. He inserted himself inside of her mouth, groaning as the feeling of her tongue against the belly of his shaft. It seemed longer than before, nearly wrapping around him and he realized she was shifting the appendage with her power to make it more serpentine.

She pushed her demonic magic into him, just as he had done her a moment before. He tugged on the edge of the belt and she abruptly halted. Sweet Pea glared down at her hatefully, taking away any last ounce of control she had. Lav, who almost always dominated in sexual situations was suddenly on the bottom of the food chain.

His hips bucked hard into her mouth and she nearly threw up on him from the force of him hitting her gag reflex. The warlock didn’t care and he didn’t stop, thrusting hard into her mouth so that his scrotum smacked her defined chin. Tears streamed out the corners of her eyes as her tongue moved in sync with him. He loosened his grip ever so slightly as he lost an ounce of the control he had. The pleasure he was feeling clouding his aggression.

Lav put her hands on his thighs to keep herself a little more steady although he was holding her in place with his own grip. Between the belt and his dick she could barely breathe. Her heart beat fast and hard in her chest with excitement as she moaned around him.

He suddenly pushed her away and forced her to stand by tugging on the belt. He didn’t want to come just yet and he knew if he continued like that then he would. Plus, he didn’t want to wait any longer before he showed her what he could really do when he put his mind and skill into his favorite pastime.

In the next instant, he had her face pressed against the door and was lining his tip with her ass. “What the fuck-” She breathed out, knowing he was going to go in raw and that it would probably hurt more than she’d like.

“Shut the fuck up.” He ordered before pushing into her. Lav cried out at the sharp pain of him entering her rectum. It wasn’t totally unpleasant, just unexpected. She didn’t mind anal when the guy was small but Sweet Pea definitely wasn’t small. “Fuck your ass is so tight. Guess no one has been in there in a while. Good.”

She wanted to roll her eyes at the stupidity of his statement. While it was true, the amount of anal one had didn’t have anything to do with tightness. He knew that, of course, it was just something to say to her to degrade her further.

“Your cunt is so used out, I don’t want to fuck that anymore.” Lav growled at him lowly, threatening to turn on him if he insulted her much further. He was hip deep inside her but she’d castrate him if he started doing something she truly didn’t want him to.

Sweet Pea understood what she was trying to say. He didn’t apologize for he didn’t care if he offended her or not. She was just some sex crazed whore to him now and that was how he planned on treating her. His hips ploughed into her and the door began to shake again. She swore she heard the wood splinter for a moment after one particularly hard thrust.

Despite the initial pain, Lavender was almost fully immersed into a pool of pleasure now. Her moans had returned, vibrating the door with the echoing sound as her nails dug trails into the old wood. He yanked the belt back, causing her head to be forced back with it.

He reached around and pulled down the top of her sleeveless dress so that her bare breasts were exposed. He grabbed one nipple, fiddled with the hardware of her barbel before pulling roughly. The sensitive spot made her sounds go up an octave as he was effectively breaking her, just as he planned to.

Lav managed to turn her head to the side enough to look at him. His eyes seemed almost pitch black as he was looking down with concentration. He reminded her of a demon almost. Only a demon would not have let her feel any pleasure at all.

He was slamming into her without a shred of care for her well-being. If she had been human then he would have been causing a massive amount of damage not only to her orifice but also to her throat. She was lucky she didn’t need to breathe to survive.

Sweet Pea was lost in his own dark mind, giving into his carnal desires as he moved without a care in the entire world. He’d never been this rough with anyone before. He found himself enjoying it way too much and he had the sudden worry that sex with anyone else just wouldn’t compare.

He was cursing madly as he released into her, Lav was strictly being held up by him at this point and after his orgasm ceased he promptly dropped her to the floor. She collapsed into a muddle of skin, muscle, and bone. “You’re mine now.” He hissed as he redressed. “Don’t ever fucking forget that.” He put his belt back on and moved her out the way before leaving and slamming the door behind him.

Myra appeared, looking down at her little demon with an inspecting gaze. She eyed the bruising around Lavender's throat and tutted. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more pathetic, you let a human walk all over you. Pull yourself together, we’re going home.”

Lav was so numb that she couldn’t feel anything. She sat up, collecting herself and the shards of her dignity that had been laying on the floor there with her. She pulled her dress back up over her chest before pulling it down over her naked genitals. She had to use the nearby shelving unit to pick herself up off the floor. She couldn’t look at Myra, not with the amount of shame she had in her heart for what had just happened.

When she left the room her head was high as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. The demon slayer was starting at her and Myra, weary of their presence and the whirlwind that was Sweet Pea now storming through the bar.

Once home everything was as it was before and Lavender was alone.

Tags: @the-gargoyle-queen, @southside-vixen, @princesweetpea, @lilhemmo, @wayward-river, @redhairdontcare732 (comment/ask/message if you want to be added or subscribe to AO3)

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maple-keenes · 5 years

Text

they wanted heaven from me, i gave ‘em hell

summary: heaven pays no attention to the actions of those in hell. roman isn't sure whether he's doing the right thing anymore, but he's certain of one thing - that his father isn't fit to be king. and he'll do whatever it takes to make sure that he won't be anymore.

pairing: logicality and prinxiety

tw: murder, death, discussion of murder and death, remus, deceit, morally grey deceit, weapons, criminalization of gay people, homophobia, cursing

wc: 5837

a/n: this took me THREE MONTHS to write and i am ashamed of how bad it turned out

read it on ao3

general:

@analogical-chaos @theflatpancake @ilovemygaydad @alltimevirgilant @virgiliananxiety @romanticsanders @theincediblesulk @wroammin @creativity-killed-thekitten @bitchyybabyy400 @wooflesthatwoof @lyditist @heck-im-lost @max-is-tired @demurphart @thelowlysatsuma @land-of-dragons-and-frogs @theeternalspace @magicallygrimmwiccan @weirdsthenewnormal @romansleftshoulderpad

The king looked down coldly upon his son, who, despite being ordered to his death, was oddly cheery.

“Roman Delacour, you are nothing but an embarrassment and a traitor to this family. You and that… boy… have brought shame upon our kingdom and you tried to murder me, you wretched man.” The king turned up his nose, refusing to look at his son.

Roman smiled crookedly, glancing up at his father. “Daddy, please. Forget about the whole sodomite thing for five minutes, won’t you?” He laughed. “Personally, I find it ridiculous. I think the fact that I’m being executed should fall entirely on the arranged coup, not the boyfriend.”

“ENOUGH!” his father roared, gesturing for the executioner to slap his son. “You are shameful, boy.”

“I’m aware.”

The king wrinkled his nose. “I do not want to have this disgusting creature in my sight any longer! Take him to the dungeons."

Roman caught the eye of a regal man standing to his father’s left and winked. The executioner stood up, grabbing Roman by the arm and wrenching him away until they were out of sight, down in the hallway to the dungeons.

“You know, you didn’t have to actually slap me,” Roman remarked conversationally.

“It was part of the facade,” the executioner grumbled. “Now shut up or we’re gonna get caught.”

Roman grinned, walking side by side next to the executioner as they made their way to the dungeons. As they finally were out of anyone’s sight for certain, he shook off the loosely tied ropes binding his hands and pulled of the ‘executioner’s’ mask, giving his boyfriend a wry smile. “You’re clever, Virgil. I didn’t think you could pull off the executioner act.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You have no faith in me, my dearest prince.”

Roman kissed him deeply, wrapping himself around Virgil. “Oh, I’d have you on the dungeon floor if I could, Virge. Many thanks for rescuing me from a terrible fate.”

"Well, I couldn't just leave you to die, my darling."

about five months prior

"A toast!" the king cried, "to my dear son, Prince Roman. May your victories be plenty."

Roman beamed as his father and the rest of the court applauded. He stood up, raising his glass to the rest of the court, the ladies giggling and swooning as he smiled at each of them in turn. “Father, you honor me. I hope to bring great glory to this kingdom!” The crowd let out a raucous cheer, clapping and hollering for their beloved prince.

Oh, their beloved prince, the savior of the kingdom. An amazing title to have bestowed upon oneself, but Roman despised it. Oh, he despised it. He was trapped, caged in a life he didn’t want. His dad was a dictator, his mother was dead, and he was… he was Prince Roman. He was the symbol of hope for this twisted kingdom.

Late one summer evening, Roman saddled up his horse and rode out into the woods, the lantern swinging in front of him as he cantered through the forest. It was practically dark when he decided he should really start to head back, though his plans were interrupted by strong hands grabbing him around the waist and pulling him off his horse. Roman’s cries were muffled by a gag slyly placed around his mouth as the edges of his vision dulled and then everything…

Stayed vaguely in focus, because he wasn’t going to black out. Gotcha.

As he was dragged, his vision slid in and out of focus. Roman supposed that was on purpose, though he wouldn’t have been able to tell you where he was anyways. When they reached the hole that this hooligan was dragging him to, the prince was promptly tied to a chair and then, only then, did Roman realize that the hooligan currently in the process of binding is legs to the chair was unreasonably attractive. Oh, he had skin like a perfectly roasted coffee bean, and gorgeously tousled brown hair all pulled together with grey-blue eyes. Roman could fall right then and there.

Of course, he wouldn’t. Because he was a man, and therefore he would marry a woman, not a beautiful kidnapper. But oh god, those eyes…

What was the harm in flirting a little? Especially with a man who was certainly going to be executed once his father found him. The kingdom would never stand for its beloved prince being missing, and Roman would be grateful, even though his father could only truly be described, as the author would say, as a word that begins with a and ends with sshole. And tyrant. Murderer. Etcetera.

“I don’t suppose you’re only on your knees for my viewing pleasure?” Roman asked lazily, retaining that ridiculous confidence he’d become known for.

His captor looked up. “Oh honey, I only get down on my knees for attractive princes.”

Roman was quite put out by that. Never, in his life, had he been insulted and rejected so thoroughly in the same sentence. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why I’m bound hand and foot.”

“Nah,” his kidnapper replied, flashing him a cheeky smile. “I’m going to go fetch my friends. And then we’ll see about your fate.” He bit his lip, still laughing. “Personally, I was all for execution. My friends are less cold-hearted.”

“I don’t think I could ever see someone as attractive or humorous as you are as cold-hearted,” Roman remarked, grinning at his mysterious captor.

The man winked. “You’d be surprised.” With that, he turned and walked into a room off to the side, returning a minute later with his friends, Roman assumed.

One was taller than the other by quite a bit, sporting a royal blue bandana tied fashionably around his neck. Roman could have sworn he’d seen that face before, the pale skin contrasted against dark brown hair and dark freckles. The picture of regality in posture and poise, but a boyish face nonetheless.

The other was shorter, bouncy, and smiling. This was not a situation where one should be smiling, so he had to admit he was impressed. He has long curls… come to think of it, Roman was fairly certain he had also seen this young man before. God, he really needed to start paying attention to the servants’ names.

“So, my dearest prince, these are my friends. They will decide your fate.”

Tall glanced at him, annoyance and disdain evident. “You have far too much of that ridiculous flair for the dramatic in you.”

“Aww, I think it’s sweet,” Short cooed. “Hi, Prince Roman. I’m Patton, that’s Logan,” he pointed to Tall, “and your captor is Virgil. He’s kind of a... well, he’s a nice jerk, but we love him no matter what.”`

Roman gasped, attempting to point at Logan. "You! I know you! You work for my father!"

Logan nodded. "I am an advisor to the throne. Surely we've met before, prince."

"Once or twice. You are a spy, then?" he questioned.

"Certainly. The former duke - or king, now, I must call him, may trust me, but I know the man is a tyrant." Logan sighed. "I didn't mean to live a double life. I have been Remus' advisor since he was 25 years of age and I 18."

"So… you're old, is what you're saying."

He let out a short, barking laugh. "What I'm saying is that I know your father very well. And his brother, when he was still alive."

Roman opened his mouth in protest, ready to call the older man out on his faulty memory, (his father never had a brother) when Virgil interrupted with a loud "Anyways. Life stories later, prince murdering now. Any last words, Roman?"

"Now hold on a minute -"

Patton placed a calming hand on Virgil's arm. "Virgil. He is not our enemy. Nor are we going to murder him for the actions of his father. The servants I meet are fond of Roman. He is kind to them when his father is not. And the court nobles… well, they know that he is different, if nothing else."

Realization dawned on him. "Patton… do I know you too?"

Patton gave him a small smile. "From a long time ago. It makes sense you would not recognize me, but nonetheless, I still think you are kind and I would much prefer you as an ally and friend than dead on our floor."

(It is months later that Roman finds out the truth about Patton. When the secret is revealed, Roman will think back to this moment and wonder how he missed it, because it was all in the eyes and he just wasn't looking hard enough.)

"So I'm outvoted?" Virgil asks, scoffing. "Fine. But he could still run off and go tell his father and we'd all be dead. We don't know him."

"I do," Logan and Patton chorused.

He shoots them a glare. "Well, I don't." Virgil walked over to Roman and poked him in the chest rather harshly. "How do we know you won't rat us out to Daddy?"

A million reasons ran through Roman's mind.

Because he's a horrible tyrant.

Because he starved thousands.

Because he treats his council and family like we are less than dirt in private, and as if we are gods in public.

Because he murdered my mother and he'll kill me too.

"Because he doesn't deserve the throne he sits on. No country deserves a land ruled by someone with no one's interests at heart but their own." Roman sighed. "And… because I hate him more than you do."

Virgil leaned back, seemingly satisfied with Roman's answer. "Well. I guess that's okay." He reached out his hand to Roman as a gesture of "I guess it's okay if I don't murder you today".

Roman took it. "Good to be a part of the team," he responded. "What do we do now?"

Virgil raised his eyebrows as a smile overtook his face. "Now you learn how to fight."

It was two days later when Roman returned to the place he'd met the other three, mumbling something or other about Virgil being a bitch and also unfairly attractive for such a bitch.

Virgil was already standing outside, twirling a dagger between his fingers and smirking at Roman. There was a straw doll set up a few yards away from the hole marking the entrance to the secret lair or whatever.

"Guess who finally showed up." Virgil sheathed his dagger. "Thought we agreed on 4?"

"Had to convince my guard not to follow me out," Roman said, dismounting from his horse (who had, luckily, wandered back to the castle after Roman was kidnapped).

He nodded, and Roman took that to mean that this was an acceptable excuse. "What'd you tell them?"

"That I had a hot date with a cute boy," he answered along with a wink.

Virgil turned bright red. "I - I can't - " he stuttered, before quickly regaining his confidence. "I feel sorry for the man. His company is quite unattractive."

Roman scowled. "I'm gorgeous, thank you. And I told them that I would like to hunt and i would prefer to do so alone. They were much more keen to believe that excuse than a woodland tryst with another man."

"Oh, I wonder why?" he muttered sarcastically, tossing Roman a plain dagger. "First lesson, close combat."

He held the dagger in his palm, studying it. "It's… well, frankly, Virge, this dagger is boring. And I already know how to fight!"

Virgil shot him an exasperated glare. "Firstly, defending your life or someone else's is not supposed to be a glamorous affair, Roman. Secondly," he continued, ticking them off on his fingers, "you know how to fight like a royal, which means you know how to fight sword fighting instructors and that's about it. And finally, don't call me Virge."

"Jesus, okay." Roman rolled his eyes. "Okay, master sword fighter, teach me your ways."

"No more snark outta you." Virgil grabbed Roman's hand amd balled it into a fist. "Is this the right way to make a fist?"

"Touchy, aren't we?"

"Stop talking and answer my question."

Roman sighed. "No, it isn't. I'll break my thumb if it's inside the fist."

"Correct," Virgil said, smiling. "You're not as useless as I thought."

"Thanks," he replied, annoyed, though he grinned back at Virgil.

Maybe this would be fun after all.

A month passed of combat training with Virgil, potion-making and medicine with Patton, keeping track of the king's movements with Logan, and planning. What for, he didn't know. But they sure as hell did a lot of it.

“So, Logan.”

"Roman."

Roman leaned back in his chair. “When we first met… you said that my father had a brother. And... I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I just - I've never even heard of an uncle."

Logan's face softened, just a little bit. "I suppose your father wouldn't have wanted you to know about him, no."

He went quiet for a bit, mindlessly flicking through their notes. "What was his name?" he asked, avoiding eye contact.

Logan glanced at him, then looked back down at his papers. “It was Damien.”

“Damien,” Roman repeated. “He was exiled when I was little. I never knew he was my uncle.”

“He was better than your father, but that’s sort of a low bar.” Logan chuckled a bit at his own joke. “Damien was… he wanted people to respect and admire him, and he wasn’t always great at telling the truth, but he was a decent man. You deserved to know him.”

Roman gasped in mock astonishment. “Logan… is this your way of saying that you liked someone?”

Logan glared at him. “I like some people plenty. Currently, you’re excluded from that minority.”

“Well, thanks for telling me about my uncle.” He shifted in his seat a bit, shutting the book in front of him. “It was nice of you. Now, on to more important topics, since you mention that you do, in fact, like people -”

“I would prefer to end this conversation here.”

“And I wanna talk about your love life, because we’re friends now and I want to. So, guess we don’t always get what we want.” Roman shrugged. “I remember one story about you at court that you weren’t married yet, and one of the ladies in Princess Madelyn’s kingdom - you know, the one about a thousand miles east from ours - was quite interested to learn this.” He winked, not subtley, as Logan rolled his eyes.

“Roman, I do not want to talk about this. Also, this is quite the change of topic. How long have you been waiting to ask me?” he said, decidedly looking anywhere except Roman.

Roman grinned. “Since I met you. Come on, I’m a prince. I never get to gossip with my friends!”

Logan shut his book and sighed. “Yet instead of talking to the other 20 year old, you come to the 35 year old advisor?”

“Well, I’m curious, Logan. To the rest of the court, it’s a big deal you’ve never been married because it's so uncommon -"

"Roman!" Logan exclaimed sharply. "As far as legality goes, I am not married, no. Is that good enough for you?"

He gasped. "Does that mean you're married illegally? Is it a princess from another kingdom? Or is it someone higher ranking than you and the court doesn’t approve of the marriage?” Roman continued to speculate as Logan slowly tried to open up his book and continue to read. It was a few minutes later that Roman noticed Logan had completely tuned him out and he began to pester Logan into telling him why he wasn’t married legally.

Logan, sensing that this conversation wasn’t going to end until he told him the truth, sighed and set his book down, saying, “It’s not a legal marriage because I’m married to a man, Roman. And as forward-thinking as the king claims to be, that marriage is not legally recognized in this kingdom. If you’re going to tell your father, remember that we’re all very good with a knife.”

“Oh my god, that’s so obvious!” Roman shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t guess that. You know, there was this prince from Valdovia who visited when I was like 17 and we ended up making out instead of going to the dinner -”

“It’s great that I don’t have to stab you, but for the love of all things, please stop talking.”

“Who’s your husband? Would I know him?”

He blushed. “Virgil! Come collect Roman, please!”

Logan refused to take any meetings with Roman for a few days after that.

Since it had been a couple months since Roman had joined their motley crew, Virgil and him had developed a rhythm to their day-to-day fighting. Most of the time, Virgil won, but Roman was starting to catch up. This particular time, it had been a couple days since Roman’s conversation with Logan, and he was just excited to see Virgil.

Neither man would ever admit (Virgil especially, since he maintained a steady cover of constant annoyance with Roman) that they looked forward to these daily lessons.

And they would never, ever admit that they looked forward to seeing each other.

They started off like this -

Strike.

Parr.

"So, did you know that Logan is married?" Roman asked.

Kick.

Block.

"Yeah? Him and Patton have been married for like, five years."

This caused a sufficient break in Roman's concentration, and Virgil was able to land a punch on his shoulder.

"You're kidding," he responded, regaining his balance and aiming a kick to Virgil' side.

"I'm not." He rolled his eyes, easily blocking the kick. "No more talking now."

Dodge.

Punch.

Roman got distracted enough watching Virgil fight that when Virgil kicked him next, he lost his balance and fell down, though not before he tried to grab onto his opponent’s arm to pull himself back up, which ultimately resulted in Virgil falling on top of Roman.

Virgil blushed, hard. “S-sorry -”

“I usually prefer my men under me, but this is nice…” Roman said, grinning.

“Don’t say things like that,” he mumbled.

Roman raised his head up and gave Virgil a quick kiss on the cheek. “There. End of conversation. We can get back to -”

The rest of his sentence was cut off by Virgil kissing him full on on the mouth. Roman grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, wrapping his leg around Virgil’s and that is when Patton walked out.

“Oh!” he exclaimed softly. “Er, boys -”

Virgil rolled off of Roman. “Sorry! We were just… um…”

Patton raised an eyebrow. “Making out on the forest floor?”

“Little bit, yeah.” Roman flushed. “We were fighting and things got a little bit out of hand.”

“You two are so cute!” he said, giggling. “Aw, I was rooting for you guys. I’m gonna go back inside now but just know that I totally approve and -”

“Patton!” Logan called from inside the hole. “Get back here, I need your help!”

And that was the end of that.

Two more months passed of holding hands under the table and kissing each other at the end of fights, of Logan’s stiff congratulations and Patton’s overwhelming acceptance, of training and planning and planning and training, when Logan gathered them all in the main room of the hole and announced formally that the time had come to murder Roman’s father.

“Really, huh? Five months of all this planning and it’s finally time to kill him?” Roman asked, trying to hide the panic slowly creeping into his voice.

Patton laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Roman, you know we’d never make you -”

“No,” he interrupted, voice hardening. “I - I apologize. It feels weird that thing we have been planning for some long has finally come to pass, and I guess it’s just a bit overwhelming for me.” Roman took a deep breath, collecting himself. “What’re we going to do?”

Virgil smirked, standing up. “I’m glad you asked, darling. It requires you to get arrested.”

“Arrested?”

Logan nodded. “We need you to try to kill him and get caught.”

“...why?” he asked.

“If someone were to kill the king, wouldn’t the first in line be the first to suspect? You can’t be there when he dies for real,” Patton explained. “And I can’t either, so when -”

Roman cut him off. “Why can’t you? They don’t know you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You still don’t know?”

“Save it for later, Patton. Now, I would also be highly suspect, but no one knows who Virgil is. Virgil is our lynchpin. Now, for the rest of it…”

Roman listened intently to his part of the plan (which involved getting caught, escaping, fighting some guards loyal to his father probably, and then being king. Simple, really, if you thought about it) but he was still hung up on Patton’s ‘you still don’t know?’.

Of course, Roman didn’t know a great many things. Roman didn’t know that he’s actually the fictional creativity of a 30 year old man from the year 2019 being written about by a teenager with nothing better to do. He didn’t know about Cup O’Noodles. He didn’t really know what exactly his relationship with Virgil was. Despite all this, the most important thing that Roman does not know is the identity of Patton, who is sitting to his left.

After the meeting, Roman cornered Patton and insisted they talk.

“I - you seemed confused when I asked why you would be suspicious. Why should I know you? Is this some great oversight on my part?”

“Well, a little bit, yes,” Patton said, leaning back against the wall. “You said you never met your uncle. I know for a fact that’s not true.”

Roman folded his arms across his chest. “Fine, so I met him once when I was three. Why do you - oh.”

He smiled a little bit. “Do you remember me now?”

“You - you’re my cousin! You’re Damien’s daughter!” Roman flinched. “Er, I’m sorry. You’re Damien’s son. That’s why - that’s why I knew you - I knew I had met you before! You were my favorite cousin!”

Patton was practically beaming now. “I really have missed you, you know. It was kind of weird, not telling you who I was. But I thought it was for the best…”

“So you are my cousin. Damien’s son,” Roman said, inclining his head towards Patton, who nodded briefly. “But… when I met you… you were a girl.”

“That’s all correct. My dad was never really one to hold me to gender conformity.”

“But my father - he doesn’t like your dad. And… Damien was supposed to be king but he convinced the court to banish him so he could be king, which happened when I was around three so you left with him when you were what, 15? Did I miss anything?”

Patton shook his head.

“And nobody told me this.”

“Apparently not,” he replied.

“I… I’m really sorry, Patton. I feel like I should’ve recognized you earlier,” Roman apologized.

Patton stepped forward and hugged Roman tightly. “Hey, none of that. You know me now. And you’re gonna be king, right? So my father and I will be allowed back into the kingdom.”

Roman smiled a bit and hugged him back. “I promise.”

A little while later, Roman was preparing to mount his horse and head back to the castle as Virgil approached him. Roman set his saddlebag down and turned to him, tilting his head in confusion. “Is something wrong?”

“I - no, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to ask you - before we go through with all of this…” Virgil trailed off, looking sheepish.

He placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “If this is about the fact that you’re going to have to kill my brother, then I promise I find that a much more attractive quality than you think.”

“It’s not, but duly noted,” he said, laughing a little. “Um, I wanted to ask if you would maybe want to be my boyfriend? I know our relationship is a little weird, and we might die in a couple days, but I -” he coughed, as if it was hard for him to get the words out, “I really like you. You’re the first person I’ve felt this close to ever.”

Roman smiled. “Did you just say something emotional? With no sarcasm at all? Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Virgil perked up, looking at Roman. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes, my love,” he responded, giving Virgil a chaste kiss. “Now, I have to get home before dinner, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Alright?”

“Alright.”

Dinner was uneventful. King Remus hadn’t deigned to join them, so Roman struck up a conversation with Logan, who had thankfully attended, about foreign policy or something.

It was when Roman was headed to bed that things got interesting, so to speak.

As he was putting his crown on its cushion, there came a knock at the door. “Come in,” Roman called, stepping back to be able to look at himself in the mirror.

“Roman, what are you doing?”

Roman whirled around to face Remus. “Father! I - I was just putting my crown away. It’s getting late, and I wanted to be rested for my hunt tomorrow.”

The king nodded. “I noticed you’ve been hunting a lot lately. Is there a particular animal you’ve found hard to catch?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you must know, Remus, there is a deer who is being quite stubborn,” Roman lied. “I had a query for you…”

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath. “There was a man with a daughter that visited when I was very little. Who was that?”

Remus blanched. “I - I cannot tell you.”

“Do you not recall?” Roman pressed.

“It’s not important, Roman,” he snapped. “Come on, get to bed. I will see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow passed in planning, planning, and more planning. Roman was set to fake the attempt on his father’s life tonight, and Virgil to rescue him by posing as the executioner. Logan had access to the dungeons, so he would meet them down there with Patton after the king had died for real, and they would escape from there.

So when nighttime fell, Roman tucked a knife into his clothes and went to the king’s room. However, when he approached, he heard voices from inside… one his father’s, and one that he remembered from a long time ago.

“I refuse to let you come back. There’s no fun in being king if your dumb old brother is here too.”

Roman stifled a gasp with his free hand. Damien.

“I’m not the dumb brother! You’re the one running this kingdom into the ground!”

His father harrumphed. “I’m leaving, and you best not be here when I get back.”

Roman reached for his knife as the door swung open and he was face to face with his father.

“Roman?” Remus’s eyes flicked down to the knife clutched in his son’s hand. “Well, I figured you were plotting something. Shame it’s gone so badly for you,” he said, feigning pity.

“Father, I -”

Damien walked over to the door, leaning against the frame. “You know, Remus, I always liked your son better than you. I can’t blame him much.”

“Brother, get out of here. Guards, take my son to the dungeons.”

The exiled king’s eyes glittered. “Oh, I will. Roman, do say hello to Patton for me. He hasn’t stopped by in a while. And congratulations on finally getting together with your boyfriend, Patton was quite excited about it the last time we talked.”

Remus turned to Roman, his curiosity overwhelming his fury. “Your boyfriend?”

Roman held his chin high. “Yes, my boyfriend.”

“Well, I guess you’re to be tried for two things tomorrow. Guards!”

At noon the next day, a guard Roman didn’t recognize dragged Roman out into the Great Room, and he was forced to kneel in front of his father and the rest of the court.

“Behold!” Remus cried, “My horrid son!”

You know what happens next.

Roman didn’t seem to mind one bit that he was about to be executed. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

“Roman Delacour, you are nothing but an embarrassment and a traitor to this family. You and that… boy… have brought shame upon our kingdom and you tried to murder me, you wretched boy.” His father turned up his nose, refusing to look at his son.

“ENOUGH!” Remus roared, gesturing for the executioner to slap his son. “You are shameful, boy.” The flicker in Roman’s father’s eyes suggested that while Remus appeared furious, he was actually quite enjoying this.

“I’m aware.”

The king wrinkled his nose. “I do not want to have this disgusting creature in my sight any longer! Take him to the dungeons."

Roman caught the eye of a regal man standing to his father’s left and winked. Damien raised an eyebrow in response. The executioner stood up, grabbing Roman by the arm and wrenching him away until they were out of sight, down in the hallway to the dungeons.

“You know, you didn’t have to actually slap me,” Roman remarked conversationally.

“It was part of the facade,” Virgil grumbled. “Now shut up or we’re gonna get caught.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You have no faith in me, my dearest prince.”

Roman kissed him deeply, wrapping himself around Virgil. “Oh, I’d have you on the dungeon floor if I could, Virge. Many thanks for rescuing me from a terrible fate.”

"Well, I couldn't just leave you to die, my darling."

Roman giggled. “Okay, handcuffs.”

“Kinky,” he mumbled as he locked Roman into the cuffs, pocketed the key, and put him in the cell. “Now, I’ll be back in about 12 hours and we’ll kick some guard ass.”

“Bye bye.”

Roman wasn’t entirely certain of how long 12 hours was, but one thing he was now sure of was that it was a lot longer than he had previously thought.

By the time the sun rose the next day, Roman was starting to wonder what had happened to Virgil. He hoped that he wasn’t caught or worse, dead, but he couldn’t be sure -

His thoughts were interrupted by Virgil rushing in as if on cue and dragging Roman out of the cell, unlocking his cuffs on the way. “You run to the fight! I have to get out of here before they catch me.” Virgil pulled him in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you when you’re king, Roman.”

Roman followed Virgil’s instructions and ran towards where he could hear the yelling, keeping his head down as he barrelled through the corridors. When he reached the front lawn of the castle, he saw a million flashes of silver as supporters of his father fought those who opposed him. He saw Patton battling a couple of guards and Logan punching another nobleman in the face, and Roman bit his lip and flew into action.

Strike.

Parr.

Keep your thumb inside your fist, Virgil’s voice reminded him.

Kick.

Block.

You’ve got this.

Dodge.

Punch.

Find your rhythm.

He was getting tired now, and the fight seemed like it was never going to end. As a last ditch resort, Roman cried, “Am I not the king?”, attempting to get everyone’s attention. A couple of people nearby turned their heads, so he continued to talk. “You think you know my father but you don’t! He was a madman!”

“He knew what was best for us!”

“He wanted what was best for him!” Roman snapped. “Remus starved hundreds so he could torture more! He murdered the queen! He is not your king, my people.” He took a deep breath and yelled, “I am your king! And I command you to stop this right now!”

The field fell silent, and Roman made his way through the battlefield. Some of the court he had known best were staring at him with hatred in their eyes he had never seen before. Still, he held his head high and kept walking.

“You know my father as the man who brought you peace after Damien was exiled! You know him as our fearless leader!” Roman yelled, walking through the throngs of people. “But he never knew you. Remus never cared about you!”

“And you do?”

Roman started, a bit taken aback. “I -”

Did he?

“Of course I do,” he said, softer. “I don’t want people to fear me. I want you to respect me. I’m young. I have more time to learn. I won’t be perfect, but I will be better than a man who only wanted the throne to take it from his brother.”

There was a soft murmuring among the people in the crowd, and then a voice called out, “All hail King Roman!”

“King Roman!”

Roman smiled to himself. We did it, guys.

epilogue

“A toast,” the king said, “to the birth of the heir to the throne!”

The rest of the court cheered, the king’s most favored advisor the loudest of them all.

Roman smiled and set down his drink. The child him and his husband had decided to adopt had just been born, and so called for a celebration.

It had been about ten years since the death of his father, and though some people were reluctant to accept Roman at first, he had quickly become favored by the public. (Especially after the legalization of gay marriage and increase in civil rights.)

He walked around, mingling with a few of the guests until he reached his cousin and Patton hugged him as tightly as possible, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” he cried, and Roman laughed.

“Thanks, Pat. I’m sure you will absolutely be his favorite uncle.” He smiled. “I promise Virgil is around here somewhere…”

“Right here, darling,” the man in question said, putting an arm around Roman’s waist. “Hey, Pat. Hey, Logan.”

Logan nodded. “Prince Virgil.”

Virgil stuck out his tongue at him, and Roman laughed. “Love, he’s just being formal.”

And so Dukes Patton and Logan, Prince Virgil, and King Roman, talked together and laughed together, and not a single one thought about what had happened ten years ago.

After all, those in heaven pay no mind to those in hell.

#tw murder #tw death #tw remus #tw deceit #tw cursing #tw weapons #tw homophobia #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #ts fanfiction #sanders sides #logicality #prinxiety #royalty au

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serpent-in-the-lions-den · 4 years

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SEVERUS SNAPE | DOUBLE-AGENT | MID-LEVEL

PERSONALITY:

Generally, Severus is seen rather than heard.

The mind of Severus Snape is complex – to be sure. Filled with calculations, fragile threads of truths and lies he’s told and webbing them all together, and innovations for many different forms of magic. To keep all of these thoughts collected, Severus keeps a journal that he has heavily bound to keep secret. There, he states the deepest parts of his soul, creates new potions, spells, and whatever else he deems worthy. It is protected by a blood spell that only he knows the enchantment to. Like him, everything is kept very private and close to his chest.

While Severus has plenty of thoughts coursing through his brilliant mind, he does not initiate conversation. In fact, he says much more with his eyes. Even if they can be cold. However, this does not mean Severus will keep silent – nor is it out of shyness. When Snape graces others with his opinions or ideas, they should not be taken lightly. Every single word uttered has meaning.

Being around Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, he’s kept a keen eye – finding everyone’s tells and when it is best for him to speak his true sentiments. As well as this, if he feels provoked or given an opportunity to speak freely, he will not cower. Often, his retorts have a bite to them, thick with sarcasm or bitterness; or both.

Severus Snape is profound in potions – and dare we say even more skilled in the Dark Arts. Books were a comfort for him growing up, finding company with leather-bound pages and becoming well-versed in their contents. A strength he chooses not to boast about is his ability to create new spells, new magic, even. Most of these, however, were being saved to get a slight revenge over his old school enemies. And therein lies the rub. Snape’s insecurities are tightly bound to Hogwarts and being bullied – not to mention his inability to reveal his true feelings toward the one girl who showed him kindness all those years.

FAMILY:

A broken family. That was the home of Tobias Snape and Eileen Prince.

A Muggle father and a Pureblood mother. Such parents didn’t give Severus an opinion on blood purity – but rather if an individual could prove themselves. While his parents may have had married for love at some point, something shifted their feelings.

For Snape’s father, nothing seemed to please him. Except for, perhaps, a bottle of gin. This instilled a primal instinct for Severus to do better; be better. Strive for power.

As for Snape’s mother, she grew sickly and thin. Her grief taught him empathy. It also made him value any comfort, starving for any sort of love and affection. This was, most likely, the cause for Severus’ immediate interest in Lily Evans – and the roots of his near-obsession with her.

Both of his parents were unhappy, and let it affect both their home and their son. Living near-destitution, the Snape house was filled with hateful words, arguments, loud shattering of priceless heirlooms or objects, and other things that still haunt Severus to this day. When thinking back on his past, Severus prefers the memories of when they both neglected him altogether, rather than any other aspects of his upbringing.

OCCUPATION:

Potions Apprentice to Professor Slughorn.

Invaluable to the Dark Lord, the talents of Severus Snape brought him closer to his inner circle. For Voldemort, it also meant he could manipulate the young man’s talents to foil any plots that the Order may have against him. Knowing his passion for potions, Voldemort encouraged Snape to take on an apprenticeship with Professor Slughorn – while also peeking behind the curtain at Hogwarts and keeping an eye on the Headmaster.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Mid-Level | Double Agent

Walking a thin line between hero and villain had never once crossed Severus’ mind. Yet, here he was. An Order member. At first, in a plot for the Dark Lord, carrying out the order to spy on the organization; find out how it could crumble. The young wizard had already grown steadily in their ranks, garnered enough trust, and was even listening to Voldemort’s other requests like his employment. All for the sake of war. It was a task daunting enough for anyone; however, Severus knew pretending to be an Order member would bring him closer to Lily. That, and potentially erase any suspicions Frank Longbottom might have if he thought he saw the Slytherin’s face during the arrest. At first, it was all an act.

Now, within the Order, Severus is a black sheep. Many of his childhood bullies are within their ranks, and many who distrust him. Although, with Severus’ lust for power, proving himself is nothing new to him. In fact, he thrives on it. No more fighting behind a mask…watching those he cares for nearly meet their end. An easy task to spy, being a great reader of both people and their minds. However, an overwhelmingly difficult task to want to continue fighting for something he didn’t believe in. Not that he believes in the Order either, but his lust for power has now been overcome with a desperate need to win an old friendship back. Perhaps to take Lily Evans far away from any wars as well, forgetting the two sides; no more choosing between what is right, and what is easy. Severus faces this new challenge, while fighting off those he once stood beside. For now, he’ll leave it to fate – if he’s able to win Lily’s friendship back.

After the latest events of Muggles being slaughtered from his mistakes with the orb, Severus feels a familiar pang of guilt. The same kind he felt after calling Lily that horrid name in school. It doesn’t help that The Order sees him as a risk and has been keeping him away from the center of the action. Severus feels responsible and a need to redeem himself. The night of the wedding, The Order tasked him with staying with the healers – at least giving him that opportunity. Among the chaos, steady hands and minds are needed. Which, thankfully, Severus was very skilled with.

SURVIVAL:

Severus Snape survives purely relying on his skills – and providing them to whichever side he feels is winning. It was part of the reason why he joined the Death Easters in the first place. Unfortunately for the Order, Snape believes the Dark Lord will win; that they will fall – and not rise from the ashes, as their namesake. A lust for power has blinded him most of all. But with it, he’s earned the trust of Voldemort, become invaluable. A faithful servant. Once the war s over, Severus believes he will be rewarded for his acts. At least, as long as he continues to do his bidding…

While with the Order, Severus has taken up housing in Hogwarts during the school year under his apprenticeship with Slughorn. During the summers, he’s found a small flat down near Hogsmeade to keep close enough. Beforehand, he often stayed with Lucius Malfoy in their incredibly large manor. It made it easy to stay near his comrades and to carry out any dark deeds.

Until there seems to be a clear winner, Severus will carry out his work as a spy. Even if it means slightly changing sides to do it as time goes on. The skills he carries with Occlumency are not to be trifled with. It seems he’s one of the few to have mastered such magic, making him the perfect soldier for espionage. Especially now that he has a desire for redemption for the mistakes he’s made and devastation he’s caused.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Severus’ relationship with Lily Evans was broken long ago. However, he will try and make peace with her, at the very least. If they rekindle their friendship, Severus would likely switch sides; happily die for her and prove himself. If it blossomed even more (something he fears even daydreaming about will jinx it), Severus would give up everything with the Dark Lord and his following - and give all his loyalty to the Order.

PRIVILEGES & BIASES:

Having gone through a very traumatic animalistic incident in his years at Hogwarts, Severus has a large bias against werewolves. The whole experience left a nasty memory for him, left in complete shock and disagreement with Dumbledore. And having Fenrir Greyback at the Dark Lord’s disposal certainly didn’t make matters any better.

There is one thing that will never chance for Severus Snape, and that is his hatred and bitterness towards certain Gryffindor boys he now has to work with in the Order. The thought alone makes his blood boil and skin crawl. Yet, he will do what he must for his cause…and maybe even throw in a snide remark or two every so often.

Muggleborns are something of a mystery to Snape now. When he first met Lily, he thought she was different from any other one – slumping the rest together with the likes of his father. Although seeing how fierce Dorcas has become – and so well integrated with the Wizarding World – Severus has gained a new understanding. Of course, he’s still untrusting, at first, and even a little cold; but that doesn’t mean his mind cannot be changed.

#bio #updated #redemption arch coming #he's in between good and bad at the moment #loving it lol #hc #head canon

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homenum-revelio-hq · 4 years

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Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Gina!

You have been accepted for the role of SEVERUS SNAPE with the faceclaim of Aneurin Barbard! We particularly loved Severus’ ambiguous motivations and how he’s playing spy as a double agent for both the Order and the Death Eaters! He’s not all good - he’s not all bad - and that fits our morally grey theme within this roleplay. So glad to see you playing him again!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Gina AGE: 25 TIMEZONE: MST-Arizona ACTIVITY LEVEL: Weekends are usually when I’m on the most 😊 I’ll try to get on during the week – especially on my early days. All that being said, I’ll definitely will be able to post at least once a week! As long as writing is still fun, and doesn’t feel like a chore, I’ll be on the dash frequently (and I’ll keep y’all informed if there’s ever going to be an issue with an activity check)! ANYTHING ELSE: trigger: non-con.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Severus Snape AGE: 21 GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cis-Male, He/Him, Heterosexual. BLOOD STATUS: Halfblood HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin ANY CHANGES: Request FC change: Aneurin Barnard.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Generally, Severus is seen rather than heard.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

A broken family. That was the home of Tobias Snape and Eileen Prince.

For Snape’s father, nothing seemed to please him. Except for, perhaps, a bottle of gin. This instilled a primal instinct for Severus to do better; be better. Strive for power.

OCCUPATION: Potions Apprentice to Professor Slughorn.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

After the latest events of Muggles being slaughtered from his mistakes with the orb, Severus feels a familiar pang of guilt. The same kind he felt after calling Lily that horrid name in school. It doesn’t help that The Order sees him as a risk and has been keeping him away from the center of the action. Severus feels responsible and a need to redeem himself. The night of the engagement party, The Order tasked him with staying with the healers – at least giving him that opportunity. Among the chaos, steady hands and minds are needed. Which, thankfully, Severus was very skilled with.

SURVIVAL:

RELATIONSHIPS:

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: Ships: Snape/Lily & Snape/Chemistry. Anti-Ships: None

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

I am excited to explore a redemption arch for Severus! I think it could be really great to see him actually believe in the cause and put his complete loyalty to The Order. I’ve tinkered with this idea before in another RP where his motives were driven by romance. Now, I can see hm relying on changing his mind on his own accord and a longing for his old friendship back to guide him to the side of good and light.

ANYTHING ELSE? Super excited to be re-applying as Sev! 😊

#homenumaccepted #harry potter rp #harry potter rpg #marauders rp #marauders rpg

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